


On Ships Across Seas

by gingeringfigs



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Bad Decisions, Don’t copy to another site, Gen, M/M, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Incest, Siblings, Slow Build, Slow Burn, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2020-04-09 03:15:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19050529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingeringfigs/pseuds/gingeringfigs
Summary: When Vergil used Yamato in the red house, he did not expect to travel decades back into the past, to his childhood. Realising that this may be a fortuitous second chance, he decides to change the future and fix what went wrong.Little does he know...that the past is a different country.





	1. The Night Before

“Heavy chain, that does freeze my bones...around!” 

His hand finally stilled their minute trembling as he raised his sword in the air. Its sharp blade reflected the silver moonlight for a brief moment before he stabbed down, down, down. Dark blood sprayed as cold fire blossomed from the edges of his wound. Hunching forward over the hilt of Yamato and feeling his hot blood pour over his flaking fingers, Vergil looked up from below his ragged hood to stare at the old family portrait, to where he and his brother stood, frozen in time.

_Dante…_

The cold fire intensified, becoming burning ice that seared through him, purging the foul corruption and weakness that flowed in his veins. Almost immediately, his demonic power flared as it instinctively tried to mend the self-inflicted wound in his stomach. But it wasn’t fast enough. Not strong enough. The burning ice had too quickly become an inferno that threatened to consume him entirely. He was going to die.

_No…! Not now…!_

Gritting his teeth, Vergil fell to his knees as he gathered the pitiful embers of his strength for a final move. He needed to see Dante. 

Gripping Yamato, he pulled it out with a _squelch_ and as his wound oozed blood faster than ever, he swung his sword. Space opened. Time split. He fell through the dark portal, his consciousness fading into the night.

_Dante…_

_._

_._

_._

_“Vergil?”_


	2. Time Rewound

It was warm. Stifling. There was a heavy weight on his arm and chest. Vergil immediately noticed that he was no longer in pain. When he opened his eyes, he saw a white-haired young boy sleeping with his head on his chest. The boy was practically lying on him and he was heavier than he looked. Wondering how he could have been so easily pinned by such a small boy and annoyed that he had grown so weak, Vergil shoved the boy to the floor from the bed.

Wait. 

That boy wore familiar clothes. A white shirt with plain black shorts. And those boots. He slowly looked down with growing unease. A black long sleeved shirt and the same shorts. He was small. He was... _young_. A _child_. Vergil raised his hands and stared at his smooth uncalloused palms. His hands were so small.

_“OW! Did ya have to do that, Vergil??”_ The boy yelled as he sat up from the floor, rubbing his bum. His familiar blue eyes blazed in the morning sun.

_Dante._

Dante’s eyes widened.

“You’re awake! How do ya feel?” His younger brother pounced on him, squashing him back into the bed. Vergil was too stunned to respond. How? What? Why? Where? When?

Dante peered into his face with a concerned frown when Vergil failed to reply. He took a breath before he leaned back and hollered, “Moooom!!! V’s awake! But he’s not saying anything!”

Vergil winced at the sudden loudness in such close proximity. He pushed Dante off him and said, “I’m fine. But you’re going to give me a headache if you keep yelling.”

Dante rocked backwards with a sheepish grin, “Sorry.”

Vergil glanced around the room, faintly recognising it as their shared bedroom. Looking out the large window, he recognised the front garden of the mansion they used to live in… Just a short while ago, the grass had been wildly overgrown and the red brick walls in shattered ruins. Now, they were pristine. Then Dante, looking as though he had freshly sprung out from their childhood portrait. 

Knowing and dreading the answer all the same, Vergil asked, “What date is it?”

“20th June! You’ve been asleep for three days with a fever. I was really worried cos we never get that sick,” Dante answered as he kicked his feet. “Mom was also getting worried too. She was going to get a doctor to come in if you didn’t wake up.”

“The year?” Vergil pressed. If he was right…

“1987. Wow, you must still be reaaally out of it,” Dante teased, not noticing his brother’s discomfort.

_Shit. I travelled backwards in time. Was it Yamato?_

Vergil looked at his unblemished hand and curled it into a fist. 

_If I’m here...then what of my eight year old self? Have I supplanted him? Or is he still within my consciousness?_

“V? Vergil? You okay?” Dante asked as he gently squeezed Vergil’s shoulder.

_No. I am **Vergil** , the one and only. _

Vergil’s smile felt strange on his face as he answered, “I’m well...Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

They were now in the kitchen. Eva, their mother, was cooking a simple lunch consisting of a light salad and pasta. As the noodles cooked in a pot of boiling water, Dante helped Eva cut the olives and tomatoes. As Vergil had only just ‘recovered’, he was told to rest at the table where he observed his family.

Seeing Eva, their mother, alive and well was a jarring experience that only solidified the fact that Vergil was truly in the past. It was strange seeing this woman he intellectually knew was his mother but not feel any emotional connection. That had faded too long ago in his memories.

_How old was - is Eva now? She must only be in early thirties…_

Vergil scrutinised his mother closely, refreshing his memory of her appearance. Yes, she was fair with blonde hair and had the blue eyes that he and Dante inherited. And, faint wrinkles at the corners of her eyes he’d failed to notice before. Firm toned arms hidden by her long red shawl that hinted at her wiry strength. He wondered what else he had failed to notice about their mother in his youthful ignorance. 

_...How strange. I’m older than my mother._

_“_ Lunch’s ready, boys!” Eva announced as she placed a bowl of puttanesca pasta and a bowl of salad on the table. Dante sat beside Vergil, barely waiting for Eva to sit before he took a large ladle of pasta and put it on Vergil’s plate first, Eva’s and lastly his own. Vergil blinked, not expecting _manners_ from Dante. No, perhaps, he might have misremembered or not noticed it at all the first time. It had been so long ago...

“...Thank you, Dante,” Vergil quietly said as he picked up his fork. He was slightly taken aback when Dante _beamed._ It jarred with his memory of the older and surly Dante back on the tower. 

_...Mundus’s attack! When did it happen?! How much more time do we have before it happens?!_

A chill crawled up his spine and his appetite was lost. Vergil scrambled to recall the scattered, crimson-hued shreds of the despised and long-repressed memory. But there was nothing, save for ashes and an echo of burning hatred. 

“Vergil, are you still unwell? You’re not eating, dear,” Eva’s soft voice gently broke through his reverie. Vergil shook his head, “I’m fine, Mother. Just had a lot of things on my mind.”

A faint memory flitted through his mind, sparking an idea. He glanced out of the window and saw that it was sunny. Right, it was summer after all. He asked, “Would it be okay if Dante and I go out to play with swords after lunch?”

Eva arched a skeptical brow, “Are you sure you’re well enough?”

Practically vibrating in his chair, Dante excitedly interrupted, “Oh please!! It’d be so fun! If Vergil says so, he should be fine! I haven’t played in ages and no one else in the village is as _good_ as he is with swords! Pleaaasseee?”

Vergil couldn’t help but smile at his eagerness. Eva covered her lips with her fingers, concealing an amused smile. He shrugged, “I’ve been lying in bed for too long. Can’t let my little brother upstage me, can I?”

“Alright. You can go and play, but only after you’ve finished eating! Half demons you may be, but you still need to eat!” Eva firmly said.

“Yes, Mother,” Vergil agreed as he ate his mother’s cooking for the first time in years. It was delicious.

 

* * *

 

After they had cleaned the dishes and put them on the rack to dry, Dante grabbed Vergil’s hand and eagerly pulled him along to their bedroom to collect the wooden swords. Vergil let himself be pulled along - his memories of the mansion’s layout had faded too much to be reliable. His twin had taken him to the kitchen earlier, but by a different route in this building (ridiculously large in hindsight; there were even servants’ quarters which were long unused). It would be most embarrassing to be lost in his own home. 

Vergil paused. He tugged Dante’s hand slightly to get his attention, “Dante, let’s go to our father’s study room instead.”

“Why? You don’t want to play swords anymore?” Dante whined questioningly. Vergil scoffed, “Don’t be silly. Of course, we’re still playing swords. I just think…it would be interesting to try sparring with Father’s swords. He did leave them behind for us as our inheritance. Don’t you think so?”

Dante’s eyes grew wide. He gasped, “V! Mom’s gonna _kill_ us if we use those swords for playing! She says that we’re not old enough yet.”

Vergil ran his free hand through his hair as he closed his eyes in frustration. _Ugh_. The indignity of being stuck in a child’s body. Sensing that this was a battle for another day (perhaps he shouldn’t rush things too quickly lest he rouse Eva’s suspicion and ire), he conceded, “Okay, Dante. Maybe next time. We can use the wooden swords for now.”

Dante tilted his head as a thoughtful expression crossed his face. Vergil wondered what he was thinking. His younger brother finally nodded with a determined look, “Okay! You’re right. We should learn how to use our father’s swords cos they’ll be ours one day.”

Vergil smirked, “I’m always right.”

“Just one thing though… The swords are locked inside a devil puzzle box that won’t open unless you know how to open it. I’ve tried _many_ times before but never could open it!” Dante shook his fist in the air before realising he had said too much. He slapped both hands over his mouth, his face blushing red.

“Mom’s gonna kill us, is that what you said?” Vergil dryly said with an arched brow, “ _Well.”_

“Shuddup!” Dante squeaked in mortification. Vergil huffed a small laugh. 

“Okay, if they’re locked up in a devil puzzle box, then there’s no point in getting them now. It’ll take us a while to figure out how to crack it open,” Vergil said. If Dante wasn’t able to open the box, it meant that he hadn’t learnt to manifest his demonic power yet. It would be moot point trying to to retrieve Rebellion if he couldn’t use it. Vergil tried to flex his demonic power and...nothing. 

_Fuck. I can’t use Yamato as well. This is worrisome. Will there be enough time before Mundus’s attack…?_

Hiding his dismay, he said, “Come on. Let’s go get the swords from our room.”

Dante, still red with embarrassment, ran ahead of him as he called, “Last one is a loser!”

It was so childish. But yet... Maybe, he could afford to indulge a little. Vergil gave chase.


	3. New Insights

Loud noises echoed through the forest as two identical young boys fought each other with wooden swords. Wood clacked against wood as the boy in white’s charge was blocked by the other in black. The boy in black swiftly counter-attacked with a leg-sweep which the other nimbly leapt over, taking the opportunity to swing his blade down at his opponent below. 

But his opponent was too good, already thrusting his sword tip up into his stomach, sending him flying. 

Landing on the ground with a loud thud, Dante gagged as he clutched his stomach, feeling like he was going to puke. Vergil looked unruffled as ever despite the fact they had been sparring for hours now. 

“Are you able to go one more round?” Vergil asked as he twirled his sword. As he recalled, Dante had always been up for more, eager to play. In fact, these past few days, Vergil had taken advantage of this fact to familiarise himself with his current body’s capabilities and try to drill some proper battle sense into Dante during these “play fights”. 

It was frustrating not being able to pull off some of his moves with just a simple wooden sword unlike Yamato. Nevertheless, his current repertoire far outstripped Dante’s, allowing to easily defeat him every match with offensive ease. To his credit, his younger brother was stubborn as a mule and kept fighting back. Like usual. 

“...I can’t.” Dante’s answer was so soft that Vergil almost missed it in the sound of rustling leaves and breeze. 

“What?” Vergil flatly asked. Dante still hadn’t gotten up from the ground. Surely, he hadn’t hit him that _hard_ just now? Given their demonic heritage, he knew that they could both take harder blows than that and he had pulled back just now, so as to let Dante recover a little faster for the next match. 

Dante’s head was still bowed, his face hidden behind his long bangs. Vergil impatiently tapped his sword against his leg, “Do you need a breather? Okay. I’ll go read then. We’ve played enough for today-“

“No! I can still go one more. I just needed to catch my breath,” Dante shouted as he pushed himself up. Vergil smirked, “Good.”

Dante steadied himself into a guarding stance with his sword held in front of him. Vergil approvingly noted that his stance had improved a little, showing less openings in his defences. Still, not quite good enough. 

Vergil settled down into his beginning stance, sword at his hip. Dante’s eyes were unerringly fixed on him, his usual smile replaced with a snarl. Yes, that’s how it should be. 

A stray leaf whiffed between them. The moment it touched the ground, they simultaneously attacked.

 

* * *

 

Vergil won again. He stood over Dante with his sword pressed to his neck. Dante’s sword had been seen sent flying into the bushes somewhere. 

“Yield?” 

Dante was silent. Taking his silence as an answer, Vergil removed his sword and remarked, “Good match. You were a bit sloppy towards the end though. Perhaps it’s because you were tired.”

Dante still wasn’t saying anything. He turned his face to the side. Vergil flipped his sword as he moved away from his brother. He said, “Alright. We’re done for today. I’m going to read now.”

Dante still didn’t answer. Hmm. Whatever it was, his brother would bounce back eventually. Vergil walked away.

 

* * *

 

It was close to sunset when Eva called for them to come down for dinner. Vergil tsked as he put away Sparda’s thick tome on demonology. It never failed to irk him that he would be subject to the limitations of childhood. The only saving grace was that he had been given a second chance to make things right. He had finally remembered that the attack would occur towards the end of summer, around late September. 

So three months. Three months to avert the disaster. Could he succeed?

When Vergil arrived in the kitchen, dinner was already laid out on the table. Dante was nowhere to be seen. Eva frowned when she saw that Vergil had come alone. She asked, “Where’s Dante?”

Vergil honestly replied, “I don’t know. We parted ways after we finished playing in the forest. I went straight to the library and haven’t seen him since.”

“Did Dante come home with you?” Eva pressed.

“...No,” Vergil swallowed, a sense of undefinable dread rising in him, “I left first.”

“Vergil! You’re his older brother! You are supposed to look after him!” Eva sharply said, her eyes flashing in anger. Guilt lanced through him, forcing him to look away from his mother. True. He was Dante’s older brother. 

“I’ll go find him. I think I know where he is.”

“Be quick and come back before it gets dark! The forest is dangerous at night.” Eva instructed. She crossed her arms, “When you’re back, you’re grounded.”

Vergil wordlessly nodded before he ran out of the kitchen. 

 

* * *

 

The clearing where they had been sparring earlier this afternoon was empty. The sword that had flown into the bushes was not there anymore. Sword in hand, Vergil tightened his grip, wondering where Dante might have gone.

It couldn’t be too far - Eva had drilled the importance of not going too far into the forest without an adult companion into their heads. This mattered not for Vergil - he was an adult, even if he was now a child _._

Wishing that he was still able to activate his demonic heritage so he could better sense Dante’s presence, Vergil pricked his ears to try and hear Dante’s voice. 

A roar in the distance and Dante cried out. Vergil immediately snapped his head in the direction of the noise and started running as fast as he could, cursing his short legs.

As he drew closer to where Dante was, he saw trails of destruction and dark blood smeared on the smashed bark and leaves. Fearing the worst, he ran faster.

The sunlight was turning crimson, shadows lengthening and darkening beneath the trees and the undergrowth growing thicker the deeper he went. The scent of blood was in the air, making Vergil’s teeth itch. 

“You ugly puss, you want a bite? I’ll make you lick your wounds instead!” Dante taunted. 

_Puss? A shadow!_

Vergil finally saw Dante, his white hair easily standing out in the shadows. Dante’s white shirt was torn, blood seeping through from slowly healing claw wounds. With a tree to his back, he was limping, heavily favouring one leg as he brandished a battered wooden sword at the lone feline shadow with glowing red eyes that easily dwarfed him. Vergil felt something hot, akin to hellfire, surge through him.

 

* * *

 

The shadow leopard roared and jumped into the air, its form starting to elongate into spikes. Dante softly cursed, “Ah _hell.”_ He couldn’t move fast enough to get out of harm’s way on a busted leg and he wasn’t strong enough to fend off the shadow. He fell as his wounded leg failed to support him.

A dark blur swiftly moved in front of him, glowing with blue fire. Blue lines bisected the demonic beast, dispersing the black miasma to reveal its vulnerable core. Vergil, his hair in a windswept mess, snarled, “ _Perish_.”

He struck the core with pinpoint precision, the blunt tip of his wooden sword reinforced and sharpened with his aura easily breaking through. The core exploded in a burst of light. Behind him on the ground, Dante breathed in awe, “Wow.” 

He’d made it in just in time. Relieved, he turned around to face his younger brother, guilt piercing him when he heard Dante’s pained cry. That foolish little brother had tried to stand on his injured leg…! No. It was his fault in the first place that Dante had been left behind in the forest and got attacked by the demon cat. A quick glance informed him that Dante would not be able to walk — aside from some ugly gashes, his ankle was swollen from a sprain. 

“Climb onto my back. I’ll carry you home,” Vergil calmly said as he knelt down beside Dante. 

Instead of climbing on, Dante derisively scoffed, “Just give me a few moments and I’ll be right as new.”

_What? No, not so fast with this kind of injury!_

“Dante. It’s getting late and it will be far more dangerous when the sun has fully set,” Vergil explained, not wanting to argue with him when he was obviously in distress. But Dante refused to move. Instead, he stretched out his injured leg and settled against the tree behind him. He replied, “I’m not moving from here until I’ve healed. I’ll only slow you down otherwise.”

_...Slow me down? What? Oh, for fuck’s sake._

Without preamble, he tore one of his sleeves off to make an impromptu bandage. Before Dante could protest, Vergil was already wrapping the cloth around his wound, taking care not to jostle him too much. Then, he put his arms under Dante’s knees and around his shoulders. With a flex of his will, he summoned his blue flames to reinforce his limbs as he easily lifted him off the ground.

Dante flailed, “Wha- put me down! This is _embarrassing_!”

Amused, Vergil issued an ultimatum, “It’s either a bridal carry or piggyback. Choose.”

Dante conceded quickly. Curling his fingers in Vergil’s shirt in case he fell, he grudgingly grumbled, “ _Piggyback_.”

Vergil gently put him back down on his feet, careful to let Dante lean on him in order to put less weight on his wounded leg. He turned and crouched down, waiting for Dante to climb onto his back. Dante hesitated before he carefully climbed on and wrapped his arms around his brother’s shoulders and locked his legs around his brother’s waist for stability. With a steadying grip on Dante’s thighs, Vergil smoothly stood up. 

“Let’s go home. Hopefully dinner hasn’t gone cold,” Vergil said as he started walking. 

Dante suddenly burst into tears. 

_...What?_

“...Dante? What’s... _wrong_? Should I hurry?” 

But Dante wouldn’t stop crying. It was immensely _uncomfortable_ ; the back of his shirt was growing wet with Dante’s tears and he could feel how Dante’s body trembled with the sobs that wracked him. Vergil gritted his teeth as he stoically pushed on. This was the least he could do for Dante. The faster he got them both home, the faster Dante could heal safely. 

Eventually, Dante’s crying subsided. He finally spoke up in a thready whisper, “I’m not strong like you. I’m not as smart. I am...not like you.”

_What._

Vergil tilted his head, utterly confused but with a growing sense of dread. Dante swallowed and continued, “...Aren’t we twins? We have always been equal. Or at least I thought, we were. You’ve been holding back on me. I…If I’ve been holding you back all this while...I’m. I’m sorry. I’m sorry to disappoint you, Vergil.”

When he finally understood, horror and shame filled him. How badly had he misunderstood Dante and not noticed his real feelings? This had to be rectified. _Now_. 

“...No! It’s not you who should apologise. It is I who should apologise,” Vergil slowly said. “I...Indeed, we’re twins. But that does not mean that you have to be like me. While I may be good with books, you are far better than me with people. Have you not noticed how people in Red Grave smile at you more than me? You are far stronger than you think - not many could have fought the shadow and lived. I only came in at the last moment and caught it off-guard.I do not think I could have accomplished the same feat like you.”

Vergil turned his head to look Dante in the eye, “Dante, look at me. What do you see?”

“Errr, your hair is still messy?”

“Aside from that.”

“You’ve got only one sleeve on your left arm. You wear black. You’ve got the same face I do.”

“That’ll do. Now what about yourself?” 

Dante looked down at himself, wondering exactly what his brother was driving at. Vergil tapped his non-injured leg, “What do you see?”

“Um. I’m wearing a white shirt that’s now quite dirty and torn up. Mom’s gonna be _mad_. I. Huh. The shirt’s sleeve is also missing…? The right one.”

Combing his hair back, Vergil explained, “Despite our differences, we are still brothers. We share the same face and body. Where you are strong, I am weak. I am strong where you are not.”

Dante gazed back at Vergil, his brows knitting in bemusement. Perhaps that was too abstract for him to understand. He glanced away, trying to search for suitable words to phrase it better.

“...Dante, we complement each other as halves of a whole. You are…my other half. Remember that.” 

“...So. You are also my other half then?” Dante remarked, leaning in close to Vergil, their noses almost brushing. Vergil didn’t pull back. He ruefully smiled, “For better or worse, it seems.”

Dante grinned, “For better or worse!”

 

* * *

 

Fortunately, they arrived at the mansion back in time before the sun fully set. Eva was alarmed by the state her two sons were in and immediately sent them to wash up. 

As Eva went into the bathroom to help Dante clean up on account of his still healing leg, Vergil sat down on a convenient chair with a heavy thud. He was still covered with Dante’s sticky drying blood. He was exhausted, not just from the strain of finally unlocking his demonic aura and having to carry Dante home, but also the new revelations that had hit him like Sparda’s sword. 

Dante was still a child unlike him. He had unconsciously treated him like the older Dante he had known. But if…the older Dante was anything like this young version in this rewound time, how much had he not noticed or realised in his youthful ignorance? Vergil grimaced. _Gods_. It made something squirm uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach.

“ _Del senno di poi son piene le fosse_ _1 _,” he murmured. He couldn’t afford to make assumptions and continue operating as though the present was the same as the past he had known. The future was not yet fixed in stone. He did not want to repeat the same mistakes he had done in the unwound timeline. How blind and foolish he had been. Dante had been wiser than he. 

At least, Vergil could now use Yamato earlier than expected. That gave him more time to train and prepare for Mundus’s attack three months from now. Talking of which, could Dante also activate his aura early? Surely, he’d benefit from being able to use Rebellion early. 

... _But I’ll have to be careful and patient with him. He’s still…a child. Eva probably already suspects that I am not the same Vergil she knows._

Even now, Vergil was not quite sure of how he should feel towards her. Yes, Eva was his mother. But he did not feel any emotional connection to her and...he rememberedthat Eva had chosen to save Dante first when the demons attacked. Perhaps, there were other circumstances at play that forced her hand, but it was still a bitter pill to swallow. 

Of course, this Eva wasn’t the same Eva of his memories. But emotions are, by human nature, irrational. Logic played little to no part in how he felt. He envied Dante’s instinctive ease with his human emotions - he found them hard to understand and control so instead of freely expressing them like Dante did, he had preferred to keep them locked down tight. This had to change - he no longer could afford to ignore his emotions. 

So. If he was honest with himself…he resented the Eva of his memories for leaving him behind. It made something ugly writhe unpleasantly in his chest.

Thankfully, he was distracted by Eva’s voice, “It’s your turn now, dear! See you downstairs for dinner.” 

“Yes, mother,” Vergil got up from the chair. A freshly showered Dante, his leg fully healed, bounced out of the bathroom with Eva in tow. His stomach was growling audibly. 

“Hurry up, V! I’m _starving_.” 

Vergil softly chuckled as he entered the bathroom and closed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The graves are full of hindsight.1
> 
> Comments and Kudos are much appreciated! ❤️


	4. Activation

The devil puzzle box stubbornly refused to open. Vergil growled in annoyance as he pulled away from the box. Even though he had finally activated his demonic aura, the box still wouldn’t unlock. He’d already tried all the possible configurations he could think of. Beside him, Dante sighed, “It didn’t _work_? _Again_?”

“...We’ll have to stop for now. Mother will find out that we’ve been trying to break open the box without her knowledge if we tarry too long,” Vergil griped, unable to refrain from slamming the box back into its proper place harder than he should have with a loud bang that echoed in Sparda’s cavernous study room. It was _infuriating_. Had Sparda’s security measures always been this frustrating? 

It had already been a few weeks. It was now mid-July and opportunities to sneak into their father’s study to open the box were sparse. Eva spent most of her time in her boudoir that was just across the corridor from the study, so to avoid being caught, they had to wait till she was out of the house on errands or riskier still, sneak in at night when she thought they were in bed. 

Thanks to Dante’s willing aid as an accomplice, Vergil was able to sneak in more attempts that he would have otherwise not been able to accomplish alone. But if he couldn’t _open_ this damned box before the demons attacked, then what was the point? Did he miss something? What more did he need in order to open the box? How had the box been opened in the first place?

“Chill, Vergil!” Dante exclaimed, “You’re gonna break something if you keep throwing it around like that. Then Mom will _really_ kill us.”

“I have to _open_ this box before it’s too late!” Vergil hissed. He raked his hands through his hair, trying to think of solutions. Dante looked at the box sitting against the wall, slightly askew from Vergil’s violence. An amused grin played on his lips as he delighted in the evidence that his older brother could sometimes lose his cool. 

Still, he didn’t understand why Vergil was so keen to unlock the box. He curiously asked, “I know that our dad kept the swords in there, but why do you want them now? They’re far too big and heavy for us to use, much less hold. Rebellion is frigging _huge_. I’ll just get squashed by it if I tried to lift it.”

Good question. Taking a deep calming breath, Vergil reminded himself to be patient with Dante. This young child was not as knowledgeable or as experienced as his older self. He explained, “Those swords can change size according to the needs of the user. But only if they are able to use their demonic aura.”

Raising his hand to demonstrate, Vergil willed his blue aura to appear as he curled his hand into a fist, “Like so.” 

“ _Oooh_!” Dante’s eyes sparkled with interest, “So how do I do it?”

“I...suppose you could try feeling out your inner core? It feels—” _fire and frost burning and freezing the filthy corruption from his body as he fell through the dark_ “— like nothing you’ve ever felt before.”

Vergil lowered his hand, letting his flames dissipate into the ether.

“Real _helpful_ , Vergil. But ok, I think I get it,” Dante said as he stretched his arms and bounced a little on his feet. 

“We should leave the study now. Mother will be home soon,” Vergil reminded him, walking over to the door. Dante took a moment to carefully straighten out the box — _The devil was in the details after all!_ — before joining him.

“Time to play swords?” 

“...Yes. I did promise to teach you some new moves.”

“Awesome!”

 

* * *

 

Solving the puzzles on the box’s surfaces was done. But the number lock combination was wrong, causing the box to reset. It stayed locked. Failure again. Damn it.

 

* * *

 

This fucking box. He’d swear that the skull on it was laughing at him for failing to open it, no matter what combinations he tried on the number lock after solving the puzzles. He was sure he had gotten it _right_! Maybe it was something else?

 

* * *

 

He tried pumping in more of his demonic aura this time as he solved the devilish puzzles and enigma lock. It seemed to be working. Just when he thought he could feel the mechanisms in the final lock move, the box suddenly stopped absorbing his blue flames. It went inert.

“FUCK!”

“Shhh! Mom’ll hear!”

“এই শয়তান ধাঁধা বাক্স জাহান্নামে পোড়া উচিত!2”

“ _Wow_. You’re really pissed!” Dante’s awed delight did little to mitigate his fury.

 

* * *

 

It was now almost the end of July and it was. Getting. Ri. Di. Cu. Lous. Vergil glared at his nemesis, the damned devil puzzle box that mockingly sat in front of him with the grinning skull facing him. In the back of his mind, he grudgingly respected their father for being so careful and thorough with the security measures. If only they didn’t get in his way before the demons came. 

Willing his blue aura forth, Vergil started the tedious process of unlocking the box. Behind him, Dante stood watch.

Soft clicking filled the air in the study as he meticulously worked through each step, moving cleverly hidden loose pieces to their correct places, activating yet another layer of puzzle mechanisms. Eventually, the box opened to the last lock that never failed to stymie further attempts. 

“What now?” Vergil muttered to himself as he leaned back on his knees. Dante closed the door and turned the lock. He then joined him beside the box and squatted. He asked, “Hey, you said before that the swords in the box are meant for both of us?” 

“Yes,” Vergil curtly said. 

“...So, I was thinking. What if I tried to open the box together with you?” Dante grinned as he raised a finger, a glimmer of _red_ dancing around his fingertip. 

_...Oh. The box requires both of us to open it at the same time._

“That’s why you locked the door,” Vergil slapped his forehead, feeling incredibly foolish. He wondered how Dante had unlocked his aura without him knowing. It was incredible that he had achieved it without needing any guidance. 

_Ah, that’s right. Dante had always been a quick learner. While not booksmart, he did always have a talent for picking up new tricks…_

Dante idly traced the air with his finger, his red aura outlining the shape of a heart. The heart hovered in the air before dispersing in glittering red shards. He shyly smiled, “Surprise?”

Genuinely impressed, Vergil smiled at Dante’s display of skill. He himself wasn’t at the stage where he could force his aura to maintain its shape with remote control like Dante.

“A pleasant surprise, indeed. You must have worked hard,” he praised. Dante had earned it. His brother preened. 

“Alright, come here,” Vergil put his hand on the lock. “We’ll open the lock together.”

After Dante placed his hand on the lock beside him, Vergil asked, “Ready?”

“Yeah!”

In complete sync, they poured their demonic aura into the lock. With a soft sound of grinding gears, the lock opened and the box expanded, unfolding to reveal Rebellion and Yamato cushioned on black silk. It was oddly anticlimactic after weeks of laboring over the box.

Vergil reached out and grasped Yamato’s hilt, his blue aura spilling over its length. The blade smoothly shrank to fit his grip and size. Dante followed suit, hefting Rebellion with two hands. Glowing with his red aura, the enormous blade resized swiftly for Dante, allowing him to hold it with one hand without crushing him beneath its weight.

_Finally._

A satisfied smirk spreading on his face, he drawled, “Shall we practice for _real_?”

“Hell yeah,” Dante agreed, his face mirroring his.

 

* * *

 

It was now mid-August. Their mother still hadn’t realised that the devil puzzle box was now empty and that they used real swords instead of wooden toys in their fights. However, they still had to be careful not to go too overboard with the swords; explaining away the injuries would be impossible if they were large stab and cut wounds that a wooden toy could not make. 

Nevertheless, Dante had taken to Rebellion like a duck to water, easily wielding the claymore with showmanship flair. When they switched blades on a lark of Dante’s, Vergil wasn’t surprised that his younger brother also wielded the long katana with masterful ease. Versatility had always been one of his strengths. Frankly, it would have made him jealous if he was not already aware that their fighting styles and preferences differed greatly. Dante’s eclectic combat style of martial arts, guns and swordplay played well to his athletic abilities and adaptability. Vergil much preferred a swift, strategic and surgical approach that brooked no opportunity for reprisal. 

Dante was now resting in the shade of the trees, Rebellion in his loosely curled grip. Yamato in the crook of his elbow, Vergil was also resting beside him as he read one of their father’s books on demons. It was an informative, if albeit dry, read on the various demons found in hell. He couldn’t clearly recall what type of demons had attacked them so he hoped the book would jog his memories a little.

“What are you reading?” Dante curiously asked as he propped himself up on an elbow.

“I’m reading up on demons,” Vergil answered as he flipped a page, “It’s good to know who your enemies are and what they’re capable of so you don’t get caught flat-footed.”

Dante quickly understood. With an interested gleam in his eye, he leaned over and looked down at the book. He asked, “So, that’s how you knew how to take down the demon cat from hell?”

“That was a Shadow. They’re best taken out with guns to disrupt their form so their core is exposed. Destroy that to kill it,” Vergil explained as he turned to the page with the specific demon in question. Dante read it closely.

“Neat.” 

“There’s more of these books in Father’s library, you know. You could read those,” he reminded him. Dante wasn’t as fond of reading like him but it would do him good to be more knowledgeable about Hell’s diverse denizens. Dante hummed in agreement, “I didn’t enjoy being shishkabobed by that hellcat.”

“I also recommend reading up on demon hierarchy. Our father had made several enemies among them when he chose to protect the humans from the demons,” Vergil said as he continued reading. “As his sons, we may have to fight them one day.”

_As I once did in the unwound future and crushed them thoroughly._

_“_ Is that why our father left? To protect us from his enemies?” Dante astutely asked, giving Vergil pause. He really had no idea why Sparda had left in the first place and what had happened to him. Hell, he didn’t know if he was still alive.

But Dante needed answers. So he nodded and lied, “Yes. If his enemies knew that Sparda had a family, they would never stop chasing us to the ends of the earth and into hell. So our father decided that the best way to protect his family was to leave and not let his enemies know his true weakness. Us.”

“ _Bummer_ ,” Dante flopped backwards. A few moments of silence passed. He asked, “Where do you think he is now?”

“...I don’t know.” Vergil had searched for him before during his quest for power but never found any trace of him. In all likelihood, Sparda was dead.

“I guess we’ll never know,” Dante said as he rolled to his feet and got up with careless ease. Hefting Rebellion across his shoulders, he grinned, “But one thing’s for sure, I’ll protect humans like he did.”

_“_ Of course.” This came as no surprise to Vergil, having seen what the future Dante would become. 

“What about you?”

“...I haven’t really thought about it.” The unexpected question stumped him. Thrown into the past, he had been focused on averting the disaster that killed Eva and set them on their paths. If he succeeded, what would he do next…? For so long, he had been focused on gaining more power, much to his detriment, and the struggle to return from hell and survival at all costs. Vergil was aimless, adrift in this new time. Who knew where this current would take him?

Dante cheerfully suggested, “Maybe we could be partners! A team of demon slayers protecting humans. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Vergil looked up at him, wondering if it was really that _simple_. But the more he thought on it, the more it appealed. He replied with a nod, “Sounds good.”

“We should think of a name! What should we call it?”

Vergil was still mulling it over when their mother called from the house, “Dante, Vergil! Lunch’s ready!”

“Oh shoot! The swords!” Dante scrambled to hide Rebellion in the hollow of the tree and retrieved his wooden sword. Vergil followed suit. 

“Coming!” Dante called as they left the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The devil box should burn in hell!2
> 
> Comments and Kudos are much appreciated! ❤️


	5. Reconciliation

September had finally arrived. With the advent of autumn, the green leaves on the trees were starting to turn yellow and red. Daylight also grew shorter, leaving the twins less time for practice outdoors. Temperatures were noticeably cooler at nights as well — far too often, Vergil woke up in the mornings with the still sleeping Dante clinging to him like a limpet for warmth. It was always a struggle then to peel him off. 

Today, they were ensconced in the study due to heavy rain. Fortunately, Dante hadn’t complained too much about missing their swordplay session. This was because he had taken to voraciously devouring their father’s books on demons with gusto during their downtime. He was very eager to prepare for his future as a devil hunter. Unfortunately, that same eagerness didn’t apply to their other areas of study much to their mother’s exasperation.

Meanwhile, Vergil was sitting on the window sill and watching the heavy downpour, lost in thought. He was contemplating their mother. He was painfully aware that he had been avoiding Eva these past few months since he woke up in the past. But if. If he was able to change the future and change Eva’s fate, then... He should at least try. Try to mend his relationship with his mother. This version of his mother was not the same as the other who had left him behind. 

But how should he go about it? He was paralysed with indecision. Dante made it look easy. Then again, his younger brother was always the one who was more in touch with his human side. Maybe he should ask him for advice? 

“Dante, I want to do something nice for our mother. Do you have any suggestions?” 

He immediately winced. That was far too clumsy.

Dante looked up from the tome in his lap with a distracted, “Bwuh? What did you say just now?”

“...I want to do something nice for our mother. Any ideas? You know her better than me,” Vergil awkwardly repeated himself. 

“Oh! Mom loves roses. She goes out every morning to tend to her bushes in the garden,” Dante said, twisting to point out the rose bushes in the garden below. He suggested, “Maybe you could give her one? No wait, she wouldn’t like it if you took a rose from her bushes! Hmm…”

Vergil interrupted before he could start rambling, “That’ll do. Thank you.”

Roses... They wilted rather quickly though. Could he make something similar? But Dante had given him an idea…

With a flex of his will, Vergil slowly formed a rose out of his blue aura. It was a challenge being precise with the shape of the flower petals and keeping the rose from shattering into shards at the same time. His first attempt failed miserably, looking quite deformed before it broke apart. He sighed, “Looks like I need more practice at this.”

Dante rolled his eyes at him, “No need to be so _extra._ Ever heard of origami?” 

“Origami?”

“Yeah, the art of folding paper,” Dante said as he put the tome aside and walked over to their father’s desk. He pulled open a drawer and took out a sheaf of paper. Walking back with the paper, he took a sheet and began folding it into a paper rose. To Vergil’s surprise, it looked fairly realistic.

“Like this,” Dante flicked the rose at him with a grin. He easily caught it before it could hit him in the face and shot him an unimpressed look. Dante continued to grin unrepentantly as he held out the paper sheets.

“Very well. Origami roses then,” Vergil took the paper sheets from Dante and began folding. 

 

* * *

 

It took him the better part of the morning to fold enough roses for a bouquet. Part of it had been spent practicing to make roses that looked good enough for his standards. It would have gone faster if he had let Dante help him but his pride demanded that he do this alone. 

With the bouquet of white paper roses in hand, Vergil pushed open the door to Eva’s boudoir. It was well lit inside, golden sunlight spilling into the room through full floor-height windows. Unlike the rest of the mansion with walls painted red, the walls of Eva’s boudoir were painted white, lending an airy feel to the space. His mother was sitting by the window embroidering a dark woolen cloak in her lap. Another cloak lay on the windowsill, silver embroidery glinting gold in the sunlight. 

“Mother?” Vergil quietly greeted, hiding the bouquet behind his back. She looked up and smiled warmly on seeing him. Sticking her needle in a pincushion, she waved him over, “Hello, dear! What is it?”

Feeling uncharacteristically nervous, Vergil held out the bouquet, “I wanted to give you this, mother.”

Eva looked delighted. She gently took the bouquet and admired it, “It’s lovely! Thank you so much, Vergil. It must have taken you a while.”

Vergil shrugged. She carefully put the bouquet to the side and patted the space beside her, “Sit down, dear. You must have something on your mind. What is it?”

As Vergil sat down, he wondered what to say next. Shit. This had been a bad idea. How do you talk to someone about another version of themselves and what they had done? Much less how he felt about them? But he couldn’t back out now from this conversation. 

“If you’re here to confess that you and Dante unlocked your father’s puzzle box and got the swords earlier than you should have, I’m not angry,” Eva calmly said, derailing Vergil’s train of thought. Not expecting her statement, he could only say, “You _knew_?”

His mother warmly chuckled. She explained, “Even if you were very careful to put the box back in order, you did not realise that once unlocked, the box could not be locked again. The lock that required both yours and Dante’s demonic heritage to open was one-time use only. I was the one who designed that very last lock.”

“Oh.” Vergil warily eyed her, not having known _this_. He asked, “If you knew, why did you not stop us? Why are you not angry?”

“Would you have stopped if I told you no?” she rhetorically asked. 

Vergil held his tongue in mulish silence. His mother nodded, “Indeed. If you were able to open the lock, then you are ready. Even if it was sooner than Sparda and I expected. In any case, I have been watching you and Dante and am glad to see that you are getting on so well. Especially now that you’re more considerate and understanding of Dante’s feelings.”

He suppressed a wince. He...hadn’t been a very good brother, had he? If his mother had raised it… Eva raised her hand and placed it on top of his head, gently combing the stray strands of his hair into place. He froze.

“You’ve grown up, Vergil. I’m very proud of you,” she smiled at him, her eyes full of motherly love for her son. It pricked something deep inside him. He finally remembered. He had been outside the house in the garden when the demons attacked. Eva and Dante had been inside then and amid the chaos, he was lost. So...it all had been unfortunate happenstance. His mother hadn’t left him behind. 

“Mother...Mom. I love you,” he quietly said, a lump in his throat. An unspoken apology hung in the air. Eva pulled him into a hug, “Oh my darling boy. I love you too.”

Vergil hesitated before hugging his mother back. She felt warm. 

 

* * *

 

Since their mother already knew that they had taken the swords, they could now openly train with their swords without having to hold back. The only caveat was that they try not to stab each other too often. Their mother was growing fed up with having to constantly mend their clothes and wash the bloodstains out. 

Winding down from yet another spar, Vergil glanced down at Yamato in his hand. He wondered if all his preparations so far would be enough. He still wasn’t certain when Mundus would strike exactly; only that it would be coming soon. 

Dante panted heavily, planting Rebellion into the ground to prop himself up. This spar had been more intense than usual. Excited about being able to go all out, his brother had pushed himself harder this time, wielding the claymore with strength that belied his small body. It was telling that his growth was rapid enough that Vergil had to cheat slightly with his experience in order to gain an edge over him. When Dante eventually mastered his eclectic combat style along his swordplay, he would be a formidable opponent like his future self had been.

“Hey Vergil, have you thought about what would be a good name for our future business? The one where we run a devil hunting business,” Dante asked with obnoxious good cheer, having caught his breath. Resheathing Yamato, Vergil raised an arch brow and deadpanned, “Oh, I haven’t really. I changed my mind. I was more preoccupied with plans for my future bookshop.”

“... _Bookshop!_ _You can’t be serious!”_ Dante cried out in dismay. Hiding his amusement, Vergil continued, “You have your own interests. I have mine. I much prefer the idea of collecting books rather than hunting demons. These days, demons aren’t that common, you know? Our father saw to that.”

Dante pouted. He whined, “But then…! What about that Shadow? There must be some demons hanging round.”

Vergil pointed out, “It doesn’t have to be demons. There could also be cultists trying to summon demons or break open the border between the human world and hell. Humans can be quite...irrational.” _Like Arkham for instance._

Twirling Yamato, he mused, “As for the name... _Paradiso_.”

“Paradiso? Doesn’t sound very much like a devil hunting business name,” Dante commented with a frown. Vergil explained, “Think of it as an ideal to strive for. A place with no demons is a paradise, technically speaking.” _And of course, it’s also fitting that it comes from ‘The Divine Comedy’ written by your namesake…_

“I see. Sounds good then!” Dante easily accepted his explanation. He then asked with an uncertain expression on his face, “So...you are not joining me in this devil hunting business in the future?”

“Of course. Why would I do otherwise?”

“Oh...” Dante looked dejected, “I thought you would be interested…”

Finally taking mercy on his brother, he said with a smirk, “That was a joke.” 

It was fun to pull Dante’s leg once in a while, especially when he least expected it. Dante blinked blankly for a few moments before he scowled fiercely, “ _Argh! Stop doing that!_ I can’t tell whether you are being serious or joking when you do that.”

“Heh.” 

“ _Aaaarghhh!!! That’s it! I’m kicking your ass!”_ Dante indignantly yelled as he ripped Rebellion from the ground. Still smirking smugly, Vergil lowered himself into a stance with Yamato at his hip. He taunted, “ _If._ ”

“ _Vaffanculo_!”

“Language.”

Then no more words were spoken as they lunged.

 

* * *

 

Their mother was not _pleased_ to see them come home with new tears and blood stains on their clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are much appreciated! ❤️


	6. Snow

As September gradually drew to a close, the more tense and nervous Vergil felt. But as the days slipped by, trees becoming bare with the onset of winter, there was no sign of increased demonic activity other than the occasional stray demon that had managed to breach the barrier between the human world and hell where it grew thin. He continued to keep up his sparring sessions and read up on demon lore together with Dante. If snow came, it would be harder to train outdoors so now was the best time to train.

“It’s snowing!” Dante exclaimed, distracting Vergil from his book. His younger brother was pressed against the window, watching snowflakes drift gently down from the sky. 

Snow. He didn’t recall seeing snow when the demons had attacked. Something had changed. Had...Mundus not yet discovered their location? The ever present tension in Vergil loosened slightly. 

“Looks like this winter will be a cold one,” Vergil commented as he looked out into the garden below. He would give it a few more days. It wouldn’t do to let down his guard just because Mundus’ attack was late. 

 

* * *

 

Days passed. Nothing changed. Dante was still a stubborn limpet in the mornings. Having enough of his pitiful whining, Vergil gave up on prying him off and now waited for him to wake on his own. Their mother continued to embroider the cloaks, laboring over the intricate design.

It was curiously domestic. Peaceful. Vergil wondered when Mundus would attack.

 

* * *

 

Weeks passed. Dante was still a limpet. No...a cat would be more appropriate. He was greedy for warmth, curling into his chest as he slumbered. On a whim, Vergil brushed Dante’s loose hair behind his ear, marvelling at how his twin truly mirrored him with his hair combed back. Dante continued to sleep soundly, unconsciously trilling softly in the back of his throat — a carryover from their shared demonic heritage — as he turned into his touch. Although there weren’t enough hours of daylight during winter to let Dante sleep in, Vergil let him sleep. As he pulled the quilt higher to cover them both, he pulled his brother closer so they would both fit under the quilt. He then allowed himself to fall asleep once more. 

 

* * *

 

November arrived. White snow now thickly blanketed the garden — their mother had already taken measures to protect her beloved roses by burying them in shallow trenches and covered them with mulch to protect them from the winter chill. When spring came, the roses would be uncovered and replanted. 

Their mother finally finished the cloaks. They were made out of black felt and lined with sheepskin. The silver embroidery on the back of the cloaks was revealed to be Sparda’s emblem, a pair of abstract wings wrapped around a sword. The cloaks were warm, perfect for the winter cold. Vergil couldn’t help but wonder if his mother had ever finished these cloaks in the original timeline. 

Thanks to their demonic heritage and their mother’s warm cloaks, they didn’t have to worry about catching cold so they continued to spar outdoors. But these spars frequently devolved into snowball fights, rendering the sessions moot. Vergil didn’t really mind. It was an excellent opportunity to practice shaping his aura into projectiles to add to his arsenal alongside snowballs. He also took to shaping roses from his aura for an extra challenge, determined to succeed in making a perfect rose that would last as long as he willed it so.

Oh. Wait. Wasn’t he supposed to keep an eye out for Mundus’ attack? When was the last time he had thought about it?

...Try as he might, he couldn’t recall. Vergil let the blue rose shatter.

“Aw, you were doing great there!” 

Startled, Vergil turned in the direction of Dante’s voice, almost knocking him over due to their unexpected close proximity. Dante was standing so close that he could scent a faint aroma of cloves was uniquely his. Huh. Was puberty approaching soon? If he was able to scent Dante’s pheromones, it meant that the other physical boons of his demonic heritage aside from a supernaturally strong constitution like improved senses were starting to show. He wondered if Dante was also experiencing the same phenomena. 

Hmm. If Dante smelled like cloves to him, then what did he smell like to him? Well, it wasn’t really that important and also _improper_ by demonic standards to scent others without permission. Embarrassed to have scented Dante without his consent, Vergil took a small step back. 

Dante stepped forward, putting them back at square one. This was awkward. Should he tell Dante to keep his distance and explain why? This felt a little too much like giving the Talk.

“Dante, can you step back? You’re a little too close.” Dante’s scent was distracting, making him flush a little at the impropriety of the situation. Dante gave him a quizzical look as he stepped back. His scent faded slightly but now that Vergil knew what he smelled like, it was hard to ignore his faint scent hovering in the air like perfume. He couldn’t help but look away from Dante, feeling like he had seen him naked. 

However, Dante was much more observant than he realised. He asked, “Do I smell weird?”

Vergil almost groaned. Running a hand through his hair, he shook his head, “No, you don’t. Quite the opposite. It’s rather nice. Distracting actually.” Dante’s scent of cloves was quite pleasant, spicy and sweet in equal measure, making for a heady fragrance. Valiantly ignoring the fragrance, he asked, “How much do you know about demon etiquette?”

“Nothing much really,” Dante frankly answered, looking a little pink with embarrassment. As expected, the scent had intensified with his emotions. This was why demons put such importance on scents — they were one of the more intimate ways of communication, reserved only for mates, not even family. Demons didn’t have a concept of family like humans. 

Damn it. How should he explain it to Dante? Although they were the same age physically, Vergil was still mentally decades older than him. It felt perverse being in this position. Sighing, he decided to bite the bullet and get it over and done with. Perhaps it would be better this way so Dante wouldn’t get any misconceptions down the road.

“Ok. First, it’s impolite to scent other demons without their consent. I accidentally scented you when you were standing too close,” he calmly explained. Dante looked puzzled, his head tilting as he tried to grasp what he was saying. Right, he was lacking social context so he elaborated, “For demons, they can’t express their feelings like humans because their faces aren’t designed that way. So instead, they use scents to communicate their feelings. It’s important to ask for permission first before you scent them as it’s an intrusion of privacy otherwise.”

“Okay, that makes sense. But why is it considered private?” Dante looked intrigued now. Vergil hesitated before he answered, “Demons aren’t particularly emotional unless they’re with their mates — this means spouses like a husband or wife, in case you were wondering. Anger, hate and all other negative feelings don’t count because, you know, they’re _demons_. It’s only the positive feelings like...love that are considered sacrosanct.”

Vergil paused as he tried to figure out how to phrase the final part of his explanation. He finally said in a quiet voice, “So, this means that this method of communicating through scents is deeply intimate and reserved only for their mates. You’re essentially laying yourself bare to that one person.”

“...So, you’re saying that I basically flashed you?” Dante incredulously said. Vergil pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Crassly put, but fundamentally yes.”

Awkward silence fell as Dante slowly turned red. Vergil took shallow breaths to avoid inhaling more of Dante’s scent. Eventually, his brother rallied, “But I don’t think it really applies to us, does it? We’re still half _human_.”

“...True. Still, it’s useful to know because you never know when it’ll be handy,” he conceded, relieved to be done with this awkward topic. Still blushing, Dante thanked him, “Yeah, thanks for telling me.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said with a nod. Come to think of it, should he tell Dante about Devil Triggers too? His future self hadn’t known about Devil Triggers at all until he stabbed him with Rebellion, forcing him to trigger. After all, his future self had rejected his demonic heritage unlike him. But this younger Dante was much more receptive to learning.

“Hey, why don’t you try doing the rose again? You were pretty close,” Dante asked.

Perhaps another time. They were both too young to attempt Devil Trigger; it forced one’s demonic heritage to activate in response to life-threatening danger. It could wait till they were older and physically able to handle the strain.

“Sure. Maybe you can share some tips?” Vergil willed a blue rose into existence. Dante nodded, “I’ll try!”

 

* * *

 

It was now December. Mundus still hadn’t attacked. Vergil was reluctant to drop his guard, but it had been much longer than he had expected. So, facing reality, he dared to hope; was it be possible that Mundus was not aware of their existence and therefore didn’t order the attack?

Perhaps. Perhaps not. 

Nevertheless, he had to admit that it would be foolish to live forever looking back over his shoulder for an attack that never came. Their mother was still alive and he had a close relationship with Dante. Would it be so bad to live a little and enjoy his new life?

Winter solstice was approaching and with it the much highly anticipated Yule festivities. Much like Dante, Vergil looked forward to it. It would be the first Yule he had celebrated in ages.

Eva had shooed both of them out of the house so they wouldn’t get underfoot as she made preparations for the Yule feast. Vergil vaguely recalled that the annual Yule feast in Redgrave was usually a big affair, held in the town square in honour of Sparda. Redgrave residents were welcome to join as long as they brought a dish or drink to contribute to the feast. But after the attack…

Dante threw a snowball at him. Vergil reflexively blocked it with Yamato’s sheath. Retaliating, he dug his sword into the snowdrift and flung a large swathe of snow at him. Dante squawked, unable to block the avalanche of snow headed his way. 

“Foolish,” Vergil chuckled as he watched Dante struggle his way out of the snow. Rosy cheeked from the cold, Dante glared at him, “Dude, that was overkill!”

“There is no such thing as overkill,” he quipped as he summoned his sword projectiles and willed them to throw more snowballs at Dante. Dante’s eyes grew wide and he scrambled to get out of the way, cursing him all the way, “ _Bastard_!”

“You do realise that you’re also calling yourself a bastard?” He drolly pointed out, not letting up on his relentless assault. Dante nimbly avoided three swords’ payload with an acrobatic somersault. As soon as he landed, he crouched low to duck a snowball aimed for his head. He then jumped up, swinging Rebellion around to cut through the five snowballs launched at him simultaneously. The assault ended. Landing on the ground, Dante hunched over his knees and flipped his finger at him, too breathless to talk.

Vergil was genuinely impressed. Even though Dante was still young, he was already outstripping most with his prowess. Too bad that he didn’t have guns yet. With them, Dante could have taken out more of the snowballs without overexerting himself. 

As he walked over to him, he slowly clapped his hands, “You’ve improved.” Dante flopped down onto the snow, unheeding of the cold. He narrowed his eyes at him, “Well yeah, I had no choice, did I? Improve or get hit by one of your snowballs.”

Vergil stood over him and teased him, “At least it’s just snow. It’d have been worse if I did actually use the swords to hit you instead.”

Dante huffed, “Yeah, because you’re scared of Mom’s wrath if you’d torn up even more of my clothes. And this cloak? Not a chance in hell you’re going to damage that.”

“True. It’d be a shame to ruin her hard work,” Vergil nudged him with his boot, “Are you going to get up soon? Your cloak is going to get wet from melted snow.”

“Well...about that…” Dante gripped his ankle and before Vergil could break free, he yanked him off his feet. Before he could regain his balance, Dante knocked him down into the snow and sat on top of him, pointing the sharp tip of Rebellion at his neck with a grin, “Pride goeth before the fall and all that.”

He rolled his eyes and pushed Rebellion aside, “Fine, you win this round.” 

“Yeah!!” As Dante cheered, Vergil braced himself for the burst of his scent that washed over him. While he did find Dante’s scent pleasant, he still found it awkward, feeling as though he was seeing something private he should not be seeing. Dante didn’t seem to notice, having either forgotten the lesson or just plain didn’t care for demonic etiquette when there wasn’t a need for it with only the two of them. He pushed Dante off him, “Get off. You’ve been eating too much.”

“Are you saying that I’m fat?” Dante coquettishly fluttered his eyelashes. “You’ve hurt my feelings!”

“Keep doing that and I’ll dump more snow on you,” he deadpanned as he pushed himself up.

“Aw! You’re so cruel.”

A large dark shadow moved in the trees. It made his demonic instincts bristle. In a split second, he fired off his sword projectiles in its direction, sending a murder of dark crows scattering from the bare trees in a cacophonous racket. Dante jumped to his feet, his eyes alert, “What did you see?”

“I’m not sure. Let’s go take a look,” Vergil answered as he stalked ahead to where the shadow had been. Dante followed closely behind. 

When they finally reached the location where his swords had gone, Vergil was relieved. It wasn’t a demon but a bear which had came out of hibernation too early. In all likelihood, this bear would have become a maneater, driven to eat humans by hunger and lack of prey. His blue swords that pinned the bear in place dissipated. Unsheathing Yamato, he apologised to the animal, “I’m sorry. May your next life be a better one,” before putting it out of its mercy.

After they had buried the bear, they walked back to the house in somber silence. Dante commented in a low voice, “That was close. It must have caught the smell of Mom’s cooking and came near. It would have been dangerous for Redgrave’s residents if it went into town.”

“Indeed. I hope that there will be no other beasts nearby. Mother will be terribly upset if she knew that we’d been hunting wild animals without her knowledge.” At least it was a false alarm. Vergil would rather take a bear over a demon. Winter solstice would be here in a few days so he was glad that there were no signs of demons. 

Dante chuckled, “Ha! Are you _saying_ that we should go and hunt some animals? Like rabbits for stew?”

Vergil eyed the woods around them, extending his demonic senses to catch sign of any prey and...unwanted beings. There were none. Relieved that there were indeed no enemies around, he shook his head, “No, there’s no rabbits around. I didn’t sense any — they may have all gone underground.”

“Oh shame,” his brother sighed wistfully, “I’d really like to have hunter’s rabbit stew…” 

Relaxing, Vergil smiled, “Perhaps when spring season comes round, we can hunt some rabbits.”

Dante smiled back, “I’d really love that, V.”

 

* * *

 

Winter solstice. The shortest day and the longest night. The barrier that separated Hell from the human world was now at its weakest, its power waning with the sun. This was the best timing and opportunity to invade the human world. A commanding voice spoke.

_Sparda’s spawn has been found by the Shadows… Bring them to me._

A portal to Hell opened on a remote island with a roar that shook the land. An army of demons spilled forth with a stench of hell, sulfur and blood, that hung thickly in the still air. They knew where their quarry was. 

Redgrave. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are much appreciated! ❤️


	7. The Fall

Vergil woke up. The sky above him was dark grey with stormy clouds through the hole in the ceiling. He was buried under a pile of burnt wood, shattered brick and plaster. Light rain drizzled down, sending up the smell of ozone. Yamato was beside him on the ash-covered floor. The amulet, his mother’s birthday gift, was around his neck. Dazedly wondering what had happened, he pushed the debris out of the way. His legs wobbled when he stood, feeling as though they had atrophied. They quickly steadied as he found his footing, using Yamato as a makeshift cane. Dante was nowhere to be seen.

A breeze blew, making him shiver in his damp rain soaked clothes. He tugged his dirty cloak around him for warmth and found a suspiciously large hole in his shirt. 

_There’s a large hole in my shirt? The frayed edges feel stiff — blood? Had I been stabbed?_

He stared around the ruined house, noting that the front wall facing the garden was practically gone and ivy covered the walls, creeping in through the cracks. Discoloured white and rust brown peeked through the flaking red paint. It was eerily quiet, save for the light patter of rain falling in through the hole in the roof. 

What the hell had happened here? Why could he not remember? Wondering how long he had been unconscious, he stumbled his way out into the garden and stopped short. There was no snow…? Eva’s red roses were in full bloom. He had been unconscious for well over a month if it was spring now. 

_What is going on?_

Vergil slowly approached the roses. He spotted a tombstone among them. With a sinking stomach, he knelt down and brushed the dirt off the stone.

 

**HERE LIES EVA SPARDA**  
**1957 — 1987**  
**VITA MUTATUR NON TOLLITUR**

 

No. This couldn’t be true. He whipped around and stared at the ruined house with dawning realisation. It looked exactly what it would have looked like decades from now, if less overrun with nature. 

“Did I... _fail_?”

 

* * *

 

Vergil wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting in front of his mother’s grave. He only knew that the rain had stopped when he finally stood up. He needed to find Dante. Hopefully his brother was somewhere safe after Mundus’ attack. In the original timeline, Dante had been protected by their mother so hopefully the same had also happened in this timeline. 

_In the forest? Dante always liked to go there..._

Strapping Yamato to his hip with his belt, Vergil ventured into the woods. The first thing he noticed was how the eerie silence also extended to the woods. There were no sounds of wildlife even though it was spring. He also noticed that the trees were dead, the white birch trees stretching up to the sky with bare skeletal branches. He warily readied Yamato, pushing it slightly out of its sheath with his thumb. Focusing his senses, he tried to locate his brother’s presence. 

But there was nothing. As in, there was a literal void that had no sense of life energy deep in the woods. It gave him a headache when he tried to focus on it; the unnatural emptiness alien to his senses. Frowning, he headed towards the void. He hoped that Dante hadn’t fallen into danger. 

When Vergil found the place after what seemed like hours, he finally saw why this place felt like a void. It was completely barren and had turned into a swamp. Foul dark miasma hovered in the air, stinking of putrid decay. He grimaced, covering his nose with his cloak to block the stench. It didn’t work very well. Unfortunately, there was no sign of Dante. But...this place was _familiar._

Guided by instinct, Vergil waded deeper into the swamp, grateful that his demonic heritage made him immune to its corrosive effects. Reaching the epicentre of the swamp, he found the skeleton of a large boar against a broken tree stump, far larger than natural. This had been a Maneater Boar, a hellbeast. Its foul rotting flesh and energies had poisoned and killed all life in its vicinity. With no drainage, effluence from putrefying wildlife fauna and flora had coalesced into a hellish murky stew, resulting in a toxic swamp.

The cause of its death was obvious — a hole in the center of its forehead with fractures radiating outwards from its edges. This had been caused by Dante’s claymore Rebellion. 

“Your left!” Dante yelled. He dived to his left and his brother hurled Rebellion hard at the hellbeast that was charging him from behind. In such close proximity, the charging demon couldn’t avoid the sword. Burying itself in the demon’s head, Rebellion threw it back, slamming it against the tree, instantly killing it. The tree broke under the combination of its sheer weight and impact and crashed to the ground. 

Vergil rolled to his feet, panting for breath. Dante wiped the blood from his face, looking grim. He ran over to the boar and yanked his sword out. He turned to Vergil and whispered fiercely, “If they are after us like you said, then what about Mom?!” 

“We have to get back to the house as fast as we can and get Mother away from the demons,” Vergil calmly said, his icy fury lending a sharp edge to his voice. 

He cocked his head in the direction of the swarm of demons that surrounded them, “But first, We need to get rid of these.” 

“Yeah,” Dante agreed as he stood next to him, back to back. The demons attacked. No more words were spoken as they started fighting for their lives. 

Damn it. What had happened next? He couldn’t remember anything else. One thing was clear, Dante wouldn’t be in this forest.

“Back to the house, then,” Vergil turned away from the skeleton. He paused. He turned back and in a swift movement, shattered the skull with a punch. 

“You better still be _alive_ , Dante…!”

 

* * *

 

When he emerged from the swamp, Vergil was surprised to find that not much time had actually passed. It was still sunny although he must have spent hours searching for the swamp. Time distortion. The sheer amount of demonic energy contaminating the swamp had bent time and space around the area like a miniature Hell on earth. 

Knowing that the ruined house wouldn’t have running water, he decided to head for the river that ran through the forest. He desperately needed a bath after his disgusting dive in the swamp. Even if he was immune to its toxic substance, it wasn’t a good idea to let the filth fester for longer than necessary. It also stank to high heavens. Thankfully, it didn’t take him long to reach the river. 

Wary that enemies might still be around in the forest and not wanting to be caught literally with his pants down, Vergil stepped into the water with his dirty clothes still on. Kneeling down, he scooped sand from the riverbed and began scrubbing himself clean as much as possible. When he finally felt clean enough, he climbed out of the river. Hold on. Had they also come this way before…?

“The river! The running water will hide our scents from them. That’s how they’ve been tracking us.” 

Vergil tightly held Dante’s hand as they ran through the forest, heading for the river. Dante’s grip on his hand was just as tight as he kept up the blistering pace he set. Behind them, they could hear the baying howls of Barghests closing in on them. 

“I see it!” Dante shouted, pointing at the distant glimmer of the river. In sync, they sprinted harder. As they approached the riverbanks, Vergil summoned his swords and sent them flying back at the Barghests. It wouldn’t slow them down for long, but a few seconds made all the difference in a life or death situation. 

After taking a deep breath, they dove into the freezing water and hid among the underwater plants. Shortly after, the canine hellhounds came bounding over the ice. For a heartstopping moment, one of them pawed the riverbank close to their location. Luckily, the leader of the pack howled and loped away from the river, drawing the hellhounds away. 

They waited for as long as they could hold their breaths before climbing out of the water onto the riverbank. Sopping wet, Dante shivered in the winter cold, his rapid breaths white puffs in the air. Vergil was also not that much better off. It would have been a boon to use their demonic aura to warm themselves up but they could not afford to draw attention to their location. 

“O-okay, I think that should have done it,” Dante stuttered as he hugged himself, trying to warm up. Vergil stepped closer and wrapped his arm around Dante, pulling him close for body contact in order to share body warmth. His shivering slowly ceased as he warmed up in his embrace. 

“They’ve come for us because we are Sparda’s sons,” Dante whispered. “But why now and not earlier?” 

Vergil was also asking himself the same question. Why now and not earlier back in September or October? Wait. Today was the winter solstice, wasn’t it? That meant — How had he not realised this sooner? 

“...Because it’s winter solstice, the longest night during winter. The demons are able to attack more easily during this night — the barrier is at its weakest now,” he explained, feeling like the biggest fool. 

“Will the barrier close at dawn when winter solstice ends? They will not be able to enter then.” Dante pressed, raising his head to look him in the eye, “If it does, then, we just have to stay ahead and keep killing them until the sun rises.” 

Vergil wasn’t sure. But it was better than anything. He nodded, “We will get through this.” 

“Together.” Dante asserted. 

But where was Dante now? How had they gotten separated? Vergil was starting to hate this situation of not knowing anything and remembering only bits and pieces. He hated how powerless he was. He had already failed to save Eva, making it _twice_ now that he had to deal with her loss. He could only hope that Dante had escaped. Perhaps, like in the original timeline, did Dante also flee and go by a different alias as Tony Redgrave? 

“I’ll find you, Dante.”

 

* * *

 

His feet took him to the clearing where they’d usually train. It wasn’t far from the house — in fact its red gates were close enough for him to make out scorched burns on crumbling brick. He must have stood here…

The house was a burning inferno, flames rising high into the night sky. Pyrobats and flambats swooped in the air, screeching like nails on a chalkboard. They breathed fire everywhere, spraying flammable liquid onto surfaces and setting it alight. The noxious stench of burning gasoline and smoke made his lungs burn when he accidentally breathed too deeply. 

Hot wind billowed, the heat so strong that he could feel himself sweating despite the winter cold. His wounds stung fiercely and it hurt to breathe, the cold air searing his airways along with the throbbing ache of his cracked ribs slowly healing. But all of this… This all paled in comparison to the icy dread settling deep in his bones. 

He had made a catastrophic mistake. 

Vergil couldn’t remember what happened next, but he knew that he must have gone into the burning house to try and rescue their mother. But where had Dante been? He hadn’t been in the memory. This was concerning. 

Tightening his grip on Yamato, he walked back into the ruined house. 

 

* * *

 

Due to the severe damage the house had taken, the path to the kitchen was blocked by rubble, forcing Vergil to take a long detour out of the house and circle round to the back. If his assumptions were correct, he had actually entered the house from the back in order to avoid the enemies out front. This would be the best place to start tracing his steps. 

Unlike the front, the back was mostly intact. The door’s hinges were rusted shut so he had to use Yamato to cut the rotting wood around the rusted green hinges. He carefully placed the door panel to the side, not wanting to disturb the scene in case vital clues were lost. He stepped inside.

The first thing he saw was a large stain on the white tiles. It was rusted brown and when he knelt to examine it closer, he realised that there were trails extending from it, splatters leading out of the kitchen. 

This was blood. A lot of blood. Whose blood was this? Eva’s? No wait, there were also other trails that came from outside into the kitchen, but those were fainter as though someone had tried to erase them so the demons wouldn’t detect them. Vergil clutched his head.

Dante’s breathing was weak and tremulous against the back of his neck as he carried him on his back, running as quickly as he could through the forest without attracting the enemies. He could also feel Dante’s hot blood soaking through his clothes and running over his hands from the hideous wound he bore. 

Vergil finally reached the house and was relieved to see that the demons hadn’t yet found the house. He kicked the door open and shouted for their mother as he quickly laid Dante on the floor. On a second’s thought, he quickly scooped up the bloodied snow from outside their door and tossed it into the firepit, erasing their trail. As the snow hissed into steam, Dante moaned weakly, his body struggling to heal the wound but with little success. The gory wound oozed with black tarry ichor - poison. He was too young to heal from this and had never faced demonic poison that could suppress his demonic healing before. 

“What happened?!” Eva gasped on seeing Dante so badly hurt when she burst into the kitchen. Vergil was too busy trying to staunch the bleeding and thinking of how he could save him from his injury. Nothing came to mind but when he saw Rebellion, a desperate, idotic idea he would have never entertained under normal circumstances came to him. 

Ignoring their mother, he leaned over Dante and asked him, “Dante! Can you hear me?” 

“...V? Wh-what is it…?” It made his inner devil writhe in fury and fear to see his younger brother so close to death. This was his fault. He should have paid more attention. But now was not the time for recriminations. He had to save Dante. He picked up Rebellion and explained slowly and clearly, “I’m going to try and make you Devil Trigger. This may be the only way to save you.” 

“Devil...?” 

“It’s the activation of our ability to fully transform into our true demonic form. When you are able to do that, you should be able to heal from this wound.” 

“Vergil, is this truly wise?” Eva interjected, a clean cloth in her hands ready to clean Dante’s wound. Vergil bit his lip and looked away. Speaking to both Dante and their mother, “I’m not sure if Dante can survive the process when he’s already in such a bad state. The first Devil Trigger is painful and dangerous.” 

“Do it.” Dante had summoned enough strength to squeeze Vergil’s free hand. Pale, he gave him a bloody grin, “If there’s a chance that I’ll survive, I’ll take it.” 

Eva didn’t look happy but she agreed, “If this is the only chance for Dante to survive, then...I have no objections.” 

Vergil took a deep breath. He raised Rebellion and said, “I don’t know how long it will take you to trigger and we can't afford to have demons attacking the house. I’ll go draw the demons away from the house while you undergo the process. Mom, keep an eye on him and stay safe.” 

“Vergil, I’m not happy that you’re doing this but remember, you’re my son as well! If you don’t come back, I’ll find you no matter where you are and give you a good scolding!” Eva looked formidable, her red cape flaring as she straightened. 

Carefully propping Dante in his lap, he placed the tip of Rebellion directly over his heart. How odd. Even though he had stabbed Dante many times before in the future, this was the first time he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Was it the uncertain fear that Dante wouldn’t survive? Dante’s eyes shone bright blue as he squeezed Vergil’s hand, “What are you waiting for? Do it now!" 

“I’ll come back for you,” Vergil whispered. Then he pushed Rebellion down into Dante’s chest. Dante breathlessly gasped, his hand spasming over his before he slowly went limp. His heart clenched. He left Rebellion in him as he carefully laid Dante down on the floor. He picked up Yamato again and turned to Eva, “Stay safe. We only need to hold out till dawn." 

Then he left the house, dashing into the darkness. 

_No. This isn’t right!_

Vergil ran out from the kitchen, now knowing where he had to go next. 

 

* * *

 

Scrambling and jumping over rubble in his haste, Vergil gained more than a few scrapes on his way to their mother’s boudoir. He ignored them, his body quickly healing. As expected, their mother had carried Dante up to her boudoir to hide him from the demons. The trail of bloodstains were testament to that. 

The doors had been blasted off their hinges, laying forlorn on the floor. He ran inside without pause and immediately spotted the bloodstain on their mother’s bed. So Dante had indeed lain there. Then the demons had attacked the house despite his efforts to draw them off. So his mother must have tried to find another hiding place for him if Dante hadn’t yet triggered. 

No, Dante had triggered. The scorch marks and tears in the bedsheets were caused by Dante’s devil form. Then, where next? Vergil’s eyes darted around the ruined boudoir, searching for more clues.

Bullet holes in the walls. A new trail of bloodstains leading out towards the stairs. Vergil hurried, a stream of new memories flitting in his mind’s eye. 

Fire threw light and shadow everywhere in a chaotic play. Smoke that burned his lungs as he breathed. Burning wood that creaked and groaned. Demons roaring. Silver flashing in the dark, ichor spraying with a sulphuric stench. Gunshots ringing out as his mother cursed and took out the demons with the impressive eloquence of a drunken sailor and ferocity of a she-bear. 

Vergil finally arrived back at where he had woken up this morning. With most of his memories back, he saw the scene with new eyes. 

But as a human, his mother didn’t possess the senses that would have warned her of a Fury sneaking up on her. Eva fell, bleeding profusely from the hole in her chest. 

The Fury’s head was promptly separated from its body with a swing of Yamato. He quickly knelt to check on his mother but it was already too late. Her heart had been destroyed. It was testament to her strong will that she remained conscious and alive enough to smile at him. 

“...Save Dante. I love you both,” she mouthed before she went limp, her eyes closing. 

Vergil clenched his fists as he left the spot that had been his mother’s last resting place. He slowly turned to face the rubble he had been buried under. 

“Dante!” Vergil shouted as he cut a swathe through the horde of demons that surrounded him, trying to reach Dante who was being dragged out of the house in the clutches of two Nobodies. Their grotesque hands easily restrained the thrashing boy in a grip he could not break free from. Dante cursed, “Let me go, you bastards!” 

Somehow, Dante heard him over the chaos and swung his head in his direction. Vergil doubled his efforts, his vision tunnelling on his younger brother in the grip of their enemies. He could feel his own Devil Trigger start to activate, his blue flames rising to envelop him. Dante’s eyes widened and he shouted, “Look—” 

_**PAIN.**_

Suddenly, he couldn’t move, his knees buckling. His flames spluttered out. Dante screamed. Wondering what had just happened, he looked down and saw a blade jutting out from his chest. When he turned his head, he saw a Hell Judecca looming over him. Vergil tried to raise Yamato to block an incoming blow but didn’t account for another one that attacked him from the front. He couldn’t move, pinned in place by their weapons. 

Vergil barely could stay conscious through the pain and bone-weary exhaustion. Having fought and run the whole night, he had been running on fumes when he entered the burning house and now, the fumes were gone. Dante was crying, his red flames starting to flicker. Vergil stretched his hand towards Dante, dredging up the very last dregs of his power to form his blue swords. 

Only one sword formed. He clenched his fist, sending it flying. Above him, the roof shook. Rubble fell. The sword shattered before it could even reach the doorway, Vergil buried asunder in the dark. 

_He’d failed._

Vergil didn’t move for a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vita mutatur non tollitur - Life is changed, not ended.


	8. Nullo

  
Dante Dante Dante Dante DANTE _DANTE_ DANTE dANTE DANTE dante _DANTE_ DANTE dante DANTE dante DANTE DANTE DANTE Dante Dante Dante Dante DANTE _DANTE_ DANTE dANTE DANTE dante _DANTE_ DANTE dante DANTE dante DANTE DANTE DANTE Dante Dante Dante Dante DANTE _DANTE_ DANTE dANTE DANTE dante _DANTE_ DANTE dante DANTE dante DANTE DANTE DANTE Dante Dante Dante Dante DANTE _DANTE_ DANTE dANTE DANTE dante _DANTE_ DANTE dante DANTE dante DANTE DANTE DANTE Dante Dante Dante Dante DANTE _DANTE_ DANTE dANTE DANTE dante _DANTE_ DANTE dante DANTE dante DANTE DANTE DANTE Dante Dante Dante Dante DANTE _DANTE_ DANTE dANTE DANTE dante _DANTE_ DANTE dante DANTE dante DANTE DANTE DANTE Dante Dante Dante Dante DANTE _DANTE_ DANTE dANTE DANTE dante _DANTE_ DANTE dante DANTE dante DANTE DANTE DANTE Dante Dante Dante Dante DANTE _DANTE_ DANTE dANTE DANTE dante _DANTE_ DANTE dante DANTE dante DANTE DANTE DANTE DANTE daNTE E dante DANTE DANTE DANTE Dante Dante Dante Dante DANTE _DANTE_ DANTE dANTE DANTE dante _DANTE_ DANTE dante DANTE dante DANTE DANTE DANTE Dante Dante Dante Dante DANTE _DANTE_ DANTE dANTE DANTE dante _DANTE_ DANTE dante DANTE dante DANTE DANTE DANTE Dante Dante Dante Dante DANTE _DANTE_ DANTE dANTE DANTE dante _DANTE_ DANTE dante DANTE dante DANTE DANTE DANTE Dante Dante Dante Dante DANTE _DANTE_ DANTE dANTE DANTE dante _DANTE_ DANTE dante DANTE dante DANTE DANTE DANTE DANTE daNTE _DANTE_ DANTE dante DANTE dante DANTE DANTE DANTE Dante Dante Dante Dante DANTE _DANTE_ DANTE dANTE DANTE dante _DANTE_ DANTE dante DANTE dante DANTE DANTE DANTE Dante Dante Dante Dante DANTE _DANTE_ DANTE dANTE DANTE dante _DANTE_ DANTE dante DANTE dante DANTE DANTE DANTE DANTE daNTE E dante DANTE DANTE DANTE Dante Dante Dante Dante DANTE _DANTE_ DANTE dANTE DANTE dante _DANTE_ DANTE dante DANTE dante DANTE DANTE DANTE Dante Dante Dante Dante DANTE _DANTE_ DANTE dANTE DANTE dante _DANTE_ DANTE dante DANTE dante DANTE DANTE DANTE Dante Dante Dante Dante DANTE _DANTE_ DANTE dANTE DANTE dante _DANTE_ DANTE dante DANTE dante DANTE DANTE DANTE Dante Dante Dante Dante DANTE _DANTE_ DANTE _DANTE_ DANTE dante DANTE dante DANTE DANTE DANTE Dante Dante Dante Dante DANTE _DANTE_ DANTE dANTE DANTE dante _DANTE_ DANTE dante DANTE dante DANTE DANTE DANTE Dante Dante Dante Dante DANTE _DANTE_ DANTE dANTE DANTE dante _DANTE_ DANTE dante DANTE dante DANTE DANTE DANTE DANTE daNTE E dante DANTE DANTE DANTE Dante Dante Dante Dante DANTE _DANTE_ DANTE dANTE DANTE dante _DANTE_ DANTE dante DANTE dante DANTE DANTE DANTE Dante Dante Dante Dante DANTE _DANTE_ DANTE dANTE DANTE dante _DANTE_ DANTE dante DANTE dante DANTE DANTE DANTE Dante Dante Dante Dante DANTE _DANTE_ DANTE dANTE DANTE dante _DANTE_ DANTE dante DANTE dante DANTE DANTE DANTE Dante Dante Dante Dante DANTE _DANTE_ DANTE  


_**f o r g i v e m e** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19050529/chapters/45258262?style=disable) to see the hidden text. :) 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!  
>  ~~sorry, not sorry~~


	9. Letters

Desperate pants broke the silence as a man ran down the dimly lit cobbled street, sweat pouring down his body to drench his bloodstained clothes. It was a miracle that he didn’t trip over his feet in his haste on the uneven ground in the dark. Behind him, a shadowy figure pursued him with a seemingly unhurried gait that belied his unnatural speed. 

“Mercy! I’ll give you a-anything if you don’t kill me!” The man’s luck had finally run out, having taken a wrong turn into a dead end. He raised his hands, attempting to placate his executioner. The shadowy figure stepped into the flickering neon light, garish blue light highlighting a heavily bandaged visage that only revealed glowing demonic scarlet eyes. He was elegantly dressed in a deep green suit that was immaculate in its fit. His gloved hands held a silver katana that dripped with blood which appeared black in the neon light. He was terrifying — no blood was on his clothes despite having just wiped out the Durango Mafia an hour ago. 

“I don’t renege on my contracts. Many paid handsomely for your head, Don Durango.” 

“Oh god. Oh god. Why? Who sent you?!” Don Durango demanded, his fear transforming into anger. The assassin shook off the excess blood from his sword before answering placidly, “Perhaps, you should ask yourself what you’ve done. My clients are most demanding, even beyond the grave.”

As if summoned by his words, luminous blue wisps of light coalesced to form faces that had Don Durango paling in fright when he recognised them. His knees buckled and a foul stench filled the air. The assassin covered his bandaged face in disgust, “I hate it when this happens.”

Don Durango had lost all will to fight as he quaked on the dirty ground in his waste. The wraiths crowded him, hissing at him and clawing at him with incorporeal hands. The assassin tsked and snapped his fingers, sending them away into the ether. He had a job to finish and money to collect. With a swift swing, he lopped off Don Durango’s head, easily avoiding the bloodspray. 

“If you’re going to Hell, send Mundus my regards.”

 

* * *

 

Morning rolled round with the chorus of wild birds, clear skies and plenty of sun. The windchimes at the door sounded with a merry tinkle as a young woman entered the bookstore with a pile of new books in her arms. She called out, “Hey, Vergil! New delivery!”

There was no answer. Harrumphing in annoyance, she lugged the books to the counter and dumped the load on the wooden countertop. She brushed her dark hair out of her mismatched eyes and huffed, “Ugh, why is this bookstore all the way out in the outskirts? No one hardly ever comes here!” 

Mary Arkham eyed the shelves of books that filled the place. It was an eclectic mix of literature, history, and arcane lore which she had little interest for. Some of the books looked _ancient._ Honestly, the bookstore’s name _Joie de Livre_ was so unfitting for what it sold, if it actually sold any books at all. One of the books caught her eye. It looked familiar. She walked over to the shelf and pulled it out. 

“Hey! Isn’t this one of the books I delivered like a year ago? I thought it’d been sold off by now,” she commented as she flipped through the old book, a compendium of myths on Sparda the Legendary Dark Knight. 

“It holds sentimental value,” Vergil spoke behind her, startling her into dropping the book. The young man swiftly reached past her and caught the book before it hit the floor. He held it up and continued, “Careful. You wouldn’t want to damage the merchandise.”

“Fucking hell! Don’t sneak up on me like that! And that’s not merchandise if you aren’t selling it!” Mary glared at Vergil in irritation. As usual, the bookstore owner was impeccably dressed as ever in a full suit. Who the hell even dresses up like they’re going to a cocktail function this early in the morning? 

Vergil slid the book back into its place and turned to her, “My thanks for delivering the books here. I know that my shop isn’t in the most convenient of locations.”

Caught flat-footed by his dry statement, Mary flushed. Shit, he had heard her?! Vergil only raised a brow at her, making her feel like she was a kid. _The hell_. This guy was only, what, a few years, tops, older than her! Yet, he dressed like a old-timey guy and behaved like he was much older than he was. He even already had white hair. 

Vergil reached into his coat and withdrew an envelope. He held it out to her, “Your usual fee. As well as the next consignment of books I want your father to get for me.”

Mary took the envelope and flipped the lapel open to check. Yeah, the full fee was in there. How? How was this bookstore owner able to afford the delivery, books, rental and utilities and whatever other expenses when it looked like he hardly got any business?! She took the money and stuffed it into her wallet, folding the envelope with the order list into her pocket. She said, “You really gotta tell me one day where you’re getting the money to afford all this when your shop sees no customers!”

Vergil smirked at her, “If you’re ready, you’ll know.”

“That means _nothing_ , jerk! Fine, keep your secrets. None of my business in the first place so long I get paid,” Mary dismissively waved as she turned to leave the store. She paused at the door and said, “My mom has invited you to come over for tea this Sunday. Are you free?”

“... I’m afraid not. Business calls. Do send her my regards.” Vergil sounded rueful as he started sorting the books on the counter.

“Thought so. You’re never around on Sundays. Oh well. More cake for me!” With a tinkle of the windchimes, Mary left. 

 

* * *

 

After Mary left, Vergil set about putting the books in their proper places on the shelves. When that was done, he flipped the sign on the door from ‘OPEN’ to ‘CLOSED’. Locking the door on his way out, he headed down to the local post office that was about 15 minutes walk from his bookstore. 

There was only one person manning the desk and he looked half-asleep. As usual. There weren’t many people that came to this branch this far out in the outskirts of Oakheart, a sister city to Redgrave. But that was precisely the reason why Vergil chose to make his base here. It enabled him to keep a low profile, a much needed necessity in his current life as a hitman. Taking out his mailbox key from his pocket, he went over to the lockers and retrieved his mail. After locking up his mailbox, he left the post office to get breakfast at his usual bistro. The postman was still half-dozing when he left.

 _Salt & Pepper Bistro_ was already starting to fill up with hungry customers when Vergil arrived. Luckily, as a regular, the staff was quick to recognise him and got him an alfresco table. Once seated, he ordered his usual of an English Breakfast with Earl Grey tea. While he waited for his meal to arrive, he started sorting through his mail. Half of them were promptly discarded as spam, a couple kept aside for later reading and the last few were opened. The first letter was addressed to ‘Thyrus’, an alias he maintained for correspondence on paranormal matters.

 

* * *

 

_Hey Thyrus,_

_As I’m writing this letter to you, I’m now in Fortuna City. The old city that was once ruled by Sparda two centuries ago. I suppose you’ve heard of the local cult, The Order of Sword? They’re nutters, the whole lot of them. And seriously, angel wings? Sparda was supposed to be a demon, right? So why are they portraying him as an angel instead? Barmy idiots._

_You might also be interested to know that there’s some old local lore about a hell portal hidden deep below Fortuna that was sealed off by Sparda. It’s said that it can only be opened by one who possesses his blood and power. Cool beans. I don’t think Sparda ever married so it’s unlikely to ever happen. Maybe you could pay a visit when you’re free. You’ve always liked spooky stuff._

_That’s all for now._

_Ivo Bittermann_

 

* * *

 

Fortuna City. Right. He’d gone there many years ago in the old timeline when he was searching for clues to Sparda’s Force Edge. Actually, didn’t he go there around this time previously? He couldn’t remember clearly now, the memories of this new timeline rewriting the old timeline. This was something to revisit later.

The second letter was addressed to ‘Mercurio’, his other alias for his hitman affairs.

 

* * *

 

_Mercurio,_

_Please find enclosed a dossier on your next target as well as the cheque for the deposit fee. On successful completion of the mission, we will deliver the rest of your commission through your agent in cash as instructed._

_Buona Fortuna._

 

* * *

 

Vergil peeked at the dossier. Hmm. It looked like a fairly standard job. This wouldn’t take long. Alright, next letter... The last letter was addressed to him personally. Ah. His order was probably ready by now.

 

* * *

 

_Vergil,_

_The guns you commissioned are ready. You punk, you’d better be satisfied with these guns after all the fuss you kicked up, nagging me to make these after I’d already decided not to make anymore!_

_Come and pick them up from my shop today or I’m doubling the fee._

_Nell G._

 

* * *

 

“...Of course, I will,” Vergil murmured to himself. Those guns were more _important_ than Nell would ever know.

A waiter finally brought his order. 

“English Breakfast set with Earl Grey tea, sir?” the waiter politely said. Vergil cleared his letters to the side to make space for the food and drink, “Yes, that’s my order.”

Hmm. That waiter was a new young face. Not too surprising considering that it was now the summer holidays when the crowds would swell. His name was rather memorable too. Benedick instead of the more common Benedict. How unfortunate. Dante would have found it funny. Vergil ruefully chuckled as he started eating his breakfast.

 

* * *

 

After paying for his breakfast, Vergil left the bistro and quickly ducked into a nearby culvert. Unsheathing Yamato, he made a portal and stepped through to reach his destination, a gunsmith shop called _.45 Caliber Warks_. 

Inside the shop, a strong smell of cordite, oil and metal filled the air. As befitting of a gunsmith shop, the walls were full of guns, gun parts and various accessories. The sheer amount ammunition and weapons on display was enough to outfit a gang war. None of them interested him. He was here for only two guns. But the owner was nowhere to be seen. So he called out, “Nell, I’m here to collect my commission.” 

A lean and sinewy silvery-haired woman appeared from behind a stained curtain hanging behind the counter. She was dressed in a plain white shirt and stained overalls. Nell Goldstein, gunsmith owner of _.45 Caliber Warks_ squinted at him, “You’re early, punk.”

“I got your letter. You threatened to double the fee if I didn’t come today, so I thought it’d be wiser to come first thing,” Vergil dryly said. He could afford the fee even if the price was raised ten times. He made quite the _killing_ as a hitman. Nell raised a brow at him, “My, so eager to get your hands on these guns. Don’t touch anything while I get your guns.”

With that, Nell ducked behind the curtain again. Within a few minutes, she came out with two guns in her hands. One was pitch black while the other a pearly white. She placed them on the counter and held out her hand, “Pay up.” 

Vergil deposited the commission fee in her hand. She counted the bills as he carefully examined the two guns, _Ebony_ and _Ivory_. These guns should have belonged to Dante. As soon he had learned of Nell’s whereabouts years ago, he had quickly gone to her and commissioned her to make these guns at any price she demanded. It had taken many days before he finally convinced her, but the guns would take her years to build. This was due to lack of materials and Nell’s failing eyesight and shaky hands that forced her to work only during the day and for short periods. Vergil was willing to wait, even scrounging up the materials for her at his expense. He was unwilling to let any piece of Dante slip his fingers. 

Nell took out a cigarette from her pocket, lit it and began to smoke. She blew a smoke circle and asked, “So why does a swordsman need guns? Do you even know how to shoot?”

“I like to keep my options open,” Vergil neutrally said. He continued, “My father taught me and my brother how to shoot.”

“...I see. Never knew you had a brother, punk.” Nell said with an interested gleam in her eyes. Vergil carefully kept the guns and told her, “You would have liked him. He likes guns more than I do.”

“Would I? What’s his name?” She asked, curious about her stubborn customer’s brother. Vergil paused, wondering if he should tell Nell. He’d never told anyone about his brother. But she did make his guns. So he answered, “Dante.”

“Huh, your parents were fond of _The Divine Comedy_? Where is your brother now?” Nell casually commented as she flicked the cigarette ash into an ashtray on the counter. Vergil didn’t reply. Instead, he left the shop. Nell sighed. Cagey bastard.

 

* * *

 

After completing his other errands for the morning, it was time to return to his bookstore to open for business. Thanks to Yamato, it was a quick trip. Depositing the letters on the counter, he was about to enter his secret armoury to put Dante’s guns away for safekeeping when a knock on the door alerted him.

A short fat man wearing a newsboy cap entered the bookstore with a cheerful whistle. He jovially greeted Vergil, “Got a new job for ya, Silver!”

“Enzo. I see you still haven’t lost weight,” Vergil dryly said. Unfazed, Enzo Ferino rubbed his round belly, “I can’t say no to my girl’s lovely baking! It’s so hard to resist those buttery freshly baked scones of hers. You should really try some. Get some meat on your skinny bones.”

Vergil arched a brow and impatiently rapped his knuckles on the counter, “Where’s the rest of my commission fee for the Don Durango job?”

Enzo tossed a thick manila envelope at him. Vergil caught it with ease and he immediately opened it to pull out a thick wad of cash that was inside. He began rifling through it, counting the dollars to make sure he hadn’t been cheated. He had been burned too many times in the past by unscrupulous clients. Pleased that he had been paid in full and even had been tipped, he commented, “I take it they were pleased with my work? There was a bit extra in here.”

Enzo chuckled, “I might have exaggerated a bit, Silver. You’re the best merc round these parts after all. The more you earn, the more I get as your handler.”

Vergil slanted a suspicious look at him and looked down at the cash in his hand. A blue sword materialised in the air beside him as he dangerously growled, “You stole from me _again_ , didn’t you?”

“...Call it handler’s fee! I didn’t just come with your commission. I also got a possible new job for ya,” he quickly said before Vergil could throw the summoned sword at him. The sword didn’t disappear, only rotating so it wasn’t pointing at Enzo anymore. Vergil raised a brow, “A new job? I’d just finished the Durango job which was a big one…”

“Nah, I think this one should interest you!” Enzo reached into his coat pocket and slapped down an envelope on the counter. He elaborated, “Got this from a guy at Bobby’s Cellar. They asked for you specifically.”

Vergil took the envelope with an intrigued look. As a veteran with over ten years of experience in this mercenary business with a flawless record, he could afford to pick his jobs and state his price. Very rarely did someone actually ask for his services unless they were able to afford his ludicrously high commission. He asked, “What’s their name and what did they look like?”

Enzo stroked his chin as he eyed him closely for a long moment. He finally said, “See… that’s the funny thing. He looked like you with white hair and all. Called himself Tony. You got a long lost twin brother or something?”

The summoned sword shattered in blue shards. Vergil stilled. _Tony_? He stared down at the envelope. Enzo went over to browse the shelves as he opened the envelope to read the letter. It was written in a hauntingly familiar scrawl in rust-red ink.

 

* * *

 

_Hey V,_

_You must be real surprised to get this letter from me after what happened so many years ago. Not that I blame ya. You were in such bad shape when I last saw you, that I thought you were dead. I cried a lot, you know._

_I’m glad that you survived. Really glad..._

_Anyway. You must be wondering why I didn’t come to you directly. That’s because...I’m still being watched by M. You know who. I only managed to get away from M for a brief time to get this letter out. But after that...I’m not sure what will happen to me. M will probably torture me again, but it gets real boring after like the hundredth time. You don’t wanna know the details, trust me._

_..Okay. V, I need your help to escape from M while I’m still in the human world. Luckily, the portal to hell won’t open again till the next new moon, which is about a month from now, if my timing is right. This portal is at Mallet Island. I trust you know how to find your way there, nerd._

_I’ll be waiting for you._

_With all my love,_  
_Dante_

 

* * *

 

Lump in his throat, Vergil shakily folded the letter and placed it into his coat, over his heart. How? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are much appreciated!


	10. Windernet Harbour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, this took me a while! But hey, at least I managed to write a few PWPs in the meantime. Do check them out if you're in the mood for kinky porn ;) 
> 
> Anyhow, ENJOY!

“How disgraceful, son of Sparda…” 

A giant with three red eyes loomed over him as he dangled limp from the black spikes that pierced through his body. Yamato was shattered in his right hand, useless. It was agony to breathe, air whistling through his perforated lungs. His entire body ached and he could barely move. His blood dripped into the pitch black waters below. The false god waffled on pompously, “Sparda. Sparda. That traitor! Had he not sullied demon blood with a human womb...Perhaps he could’ve had a son with at least some grit.” 

_Well, I’m not sorry for sullying your water. I hope you were drinking that and you can choke on it._

It was a herculean feat to raise his head but spite is a powerful motivator. He scoffed, “Are you done with your drivel...? I can keep going.” 

“...Heh heh. Of course…” The giant demon chuckled, “...But can your dear brother endure?” 

_...What?_

An object was brought forth from the darkness. A small white-haired boy in bloodstained and ragged clothes. His eyes were wide, his mouth covered by a black substance that also twined over his limbs, restraining his movements. Dante. 

“...Yes…You broke in the end. I look forward to seeing what becomes of this son of Sparda. Perhaps he will be of more use. Heh heh heh...” 

_No. NO. NO!_

He couldn’t shout as he was submerged into the dark. Dante…! 

 

* * *

 

Vergil woke with blood in his mouth. He had bitten himself. Sitting up, he groaned as he buried his head in his hands. _Fuck_. The nightmare had gotten _worse_. He didn’t often dream of his ignominious defeat at Mundus’ hands but Dante’s letter had brought it all rushing back with vivid vengeance. He dreaded to think of the possibilities Dante might have suffered under Mundus’ grasp. He was so much younger and more vulnerable than he had been… He tasted blood again, his lip stinging from his teeth worrying his flesh. 

He looked out of the window beside him. The scenery of golden fields under a cloudless blue sky zoomed past as the train rumbled beneath him. He had napped much longer than he’d expected. How many more hours left before he reached his destination? In his hazy memories, he had once travelled to Mallet Island during his quest to find Sparda’s Force Edge, hoping to find clues there. Windernet, an ancient harbour in the south, was the closest port. 

Mallet Island… The place where he had died as Nelo Angelo at Dante’s hands and thus freed from Mundus’ control. The irony of the current situation did not escape him. 

Was Dante really waiting there for him like his letter said? Vergil was half of a mind that the letter was just bait and it was all a trap. Yet, the other half said it _had_ to be Dante. After all, he had told no one about his true identity as a son of Sparda and that he had a twin brother. It would have been impossible to fake the letter without intimate knowledge of their past.

A knock on the cabin door alerted him. It was one of the train staff, a brunette in smart red uniform with a food trolley. Her nametag read “Beatrice”. Beatrice greeted him cheerily, “Hello sir, would you like to buy a pot pie? Coffee or tea?”

Vergil’s stomach growled when he smelled the savoury aroma from the trolley. He hadn’t eaten lunch, too rushed in his haste to board the earliest train to Windernet. He nodded, “Yes, I’ll have a pie. Do you have beef?”

“Of course. That’ll be six dollars. One dollar extra for either coffee or tea,” Beatrice used metal tongs to place a pot pie on a paper plate and handed it to him. Vergil pulled out his wallet and gave her seven dollars, “Tea.”

“Lovely! English breakfast, peppermint, chamomile, earl grey or green tea?” Beatrice showed him the available array of tea flavours. 

“...Earl grey.” Tea sounded good right now. Beatrice nodded and poured hot water from a kettle into a plastic cup. She handed the cup to him along with a sachet of earl grey tea, a milk pod and two sachets of sugar. Vergil took the milk pod and refused the sugar.

“Thank you.” 

“Bon appetit!” Beatrice cheerily said as she left the cabin with the food trolley, sliding the door shut. Hmm. At least someone was in a good mood.

The pie was not bad. The tea tasted atrocious.

 

* * *

 

The sun was setting over the horizon when the train finally pulled into Windernet’s train station. Vergil disembarked, his eyes darting to the dark spot in the distance on the blood-red sea. Obviously, it was too late now to hire a boat to travel to Mallet Island. It rankled him to be so close, yet so far from where Dante was. He couldn’t wait for tomorrow to come soon enough.

But first, lodgings. Haste makes waste, especially when he would be heading directly into Mundus’ domain. It would be foolishly suicidal otherwise (what had his younger self been thinking...?) Thankfully, he had more than enough time to make proper preparations with more than two weeks till the next new moon.

Leaving the station, he walked down the main street, keeping an eye out for a motel. Windernet wasn’t a big town, an unfortunate consequence of being located in a remote location with little opportunities. Many of the locals had moved inland to the bigger cities to make a better living. One didn’t make much as a fisherman these days. It was at the waterfront near the boatyard when he finally found one, _Windernet Viewpoint Motel_. The briny smell of the sea was bracing and a strong wind blew. Vergil shivered in his coat, not expecting the wind chill to be so strong. He entered the motel and headed for the reception. 

The receptionist was an elderly lady by the name of Maude, going by the brass nameplate on the desk. She owlishly blinked at him from behind large black frames, “Oh hello! You’re new. Room for one?”

Vergil replied, “Yes. How much is one night’s stay worth?” 

“One hundred dollars, dear. Breakfast is included,” she said. A fair price. He took the correct amount from his wallet and paid her upfront. She took a room key from the key cabinet behind her and passed it to him. She put her finger to her lip and stage-whispered, “You’ve got the best room in the house! It has a wonderful view of the sea.”

“...Thanks,” Vergil said. He glanced at the sepia photographs on the walls that showed the various sights around Windernet. He was intrigued that none of the photos showed Mallet Island. He carefully asked, “If you would be so kind to indulge my curiosity, could you tell me how I can get to the island out there?”

Maude’s face froze, her smile a rictus. Her voice quavered, “O-oh dearie me, I can’t tell you! It’s _forbidden_ to go there! No, no, put that out of your mind, young man! It’s too dangerous!”

Deciding that it was the better part of valour to acquiesce, Vergil reluctantly apologised, “Pardon me. I was not aware that it’s forbidden.”

Maude shook her head, “It’s quite alright. You’re not from Windernet, so you wouldn’t know… Is there anything else you need?”

“I’ll like to hire a boat tomorrow to do some...fishing. Whom can I approach?” 

“Ah, you can just go down to the boatyard tomorrow morning. Look for a bright red yacht ‘The Merry’. Its captain Frank Wollan knows the best spots for fishing,” she said.

“Thank you,” Vergil said before making his way up the stairs. Maude called out, “Good night!”

_...I wasn’t expecting such a strong negative response. Let’s hope that I have better luck with other people tomorrow._

 

* * *

 

The next morning was miserably grey and rainy. As he stared out of the window at the dark stormy sea, Vergil cursed under his breath. The inclement weather would make it even more _difficult_ to find people who would be willing to take him to Mallet Island on choppy waters. Nevertheless, he had to try. With some luck and prayer, there might be a grizzled fisherman who could take him to the island. After he completed his morning ablutions, he went downstairs to the little pub area of the motel for his complimentary breakfast. A modest breakfast buffet was spread across the bar and it smelled quite heavenly.

Vergil took a plate and began piling scrambled eggs, grilled spiced sausages, sauteed mushrooms and a brioche bun on it. He opted for black coffee instead of tea. He needed all the energy he could get. Today promised to be a long, tiring day.

Fortunately, the meal tasted as good as it smelled. The eggs were especially good; not too overcooked and still slightly runny with soft pillowy curds with an earthy hint of truffle oil – _that_ had been a surprise. The grilled spiced sausages complemented the eggs and garlicky mushrooms well, waking his palette with the flavour of paprika. The brioche was perfectly baked, crispy crust but with a soft airy interior. The coffee beans had been perfectly roasted and ground to his liking, neither too bitterly acrid from being overburnt nor too watery. Vergil was in a much better mood by the end of the meal, ready to brave the heavy rain and cold weather.

Maude from last night was manning the reception again. She gave a worried look out the door and said, “Dearie me, do you have an umbrella? The storm looks like it’ll last the whole day.”

Vergil most certainly did not have one. Why would he need one when venturing into Mundus’ lair? An umbrella would be useless. He replied, “No. Do you have a spare I could use?”

“Of course!” Maude said cheerfully. She bent over to dig under the reception and pulled out a long black umbrella. She handed it over to Vergil, “Here you go. Do remember to return it when you’ve finished using it.”

“My thanks,” Vergil took the umbrella and with a glance at the docks, he asked, “Do you know where I may find Captain Wollan? I doubt that he would still be out in the docks in this heavy rain.”

“Ah, he’ll most likely be at the local pub. It’s called Leaping Trout! The old sailors love to gather there for a kipper and ale when it’s storming hard like this.” Maude answered cheerily, “You can’t miss it! Just walk straight down the road towards the station and turn right once you hit the town hall. You’ll see the pub’s signboard.”

“Noted, thank you.” Vergil nodded. Sounded easy enough. Adjusting his coat, he opened the umbrella and sallied forth into the storm.

 

* * *

 

Like Maude had said, _Leaping Trout_ was easy to spot even through the poor visibility of the heavy rain. Its distinctive signboard that showed a trout leaping out of the water was rather eye-catching with its lurid colours. Glad that his boots were waterproof and knee-high, Vergil sloshed through ankle-deep water puddles and entered the pub.

The change of environments was immediate and stark. Blazing warmth from the large fireplace was a relief from the wet chill. Loud jovial chatter, clinking of glass, slurping and chewing, and the crackling of fire filled the air, a whole world apart from the dreary storm outside. Dripping water onto thick mats woven from old tarred ropes, Vergil closed the umbrella and placed it together with the other dripping umbrellas. 

He approached the bar, taking his lay of the pub and trying to spot Captain Wollan. Like Maude said, the majority were grizzled, weatherbeaten sailors. And, to his surprise, getting on in years with greying hair and heavily wrinkled sagging skin with liver spots and veins. Ah right, most of the younger people had moved to the cities, leaving the older folk behind. 

The bartender was a buxom blonde with massive arms. Impressively, she was carrying a dozen lagers of dark ale at once. She plonked them down on the dark wooden counter and slid them to the various customers who had ordered the drink. When done, she raised a brow at Vergil, “You’re new! Your order?”

It was too early for drinking in his opinion. But do as Romans do when in Rome. He said, “Give me a glass of whatever you think is best. I’m not too familiar with these parts.”

The bartender nodded, “Then I recommend our dark malty ale! It goes down easy even if it’s early in the day.”

“Ah… that drink you served just now?” Vergil hadn’t drunk dark ale before, finding no reason to. But well, he was new to town and he needed to find someone to take him to Mallet Island. Might as well build some goodwill with the bartender. Hopefully like Bobby’s Cellar’s bartender, she would also be a good fount of information. He continued, “Sure, one lager please. How much will that be?”

“Since you’re a first-timer, it’s on the house! What’s your name and what brings you all the way out here, city boy?” The bartender picked up a clean lager and started pulling dark ale into it from the tap. Vergil pondered which alias to use. He couldn’t be sure if it was safe to use his real name this close to enemy territory. He finally said, “You may call me Fferyllt.”

“Fferyllt? Unusual name.” The bartender commented as she slid him the chilled lager brimming with dark ale. Some of the tan foam dripped down the sides to pool on the stained dark counter. Vergil took a sip. He hummed in pleased surprise at the taste; it was almost chocolatey with a faint nutty aftertaste of roasted barley. Like she said, it went down smooth without the harsh bite of alcohol. The bartender smiled as he downed half of the lager, “It’s good, right? I’m Rosa, nice to meet you, Ferry. So if you don’t mind me asking, what brings you out here in this bastard of a storm?”

Vergil wiped the foam off his upper lip. The dark ale was warming him up nicely inside out. Too bad it’d be quickly burned through by his demonic constitution. He glanced around the bar, his gaze lingering on the sailors before he returned to Rosa, “I’m looking for Captain Wollan as I’d like to hire him for a boat ride. Maude from the motel had recommended him.”

“Ahh. I see. Ok, hold on a sec,” Rosa nodded knowingly before she reared back and hollered in a deafening voice that cut through the noise of the bar, “WOLLAN! YOU GOT A CUSTOMER!”

There was a brief silence as the people glanced at Rosa before returning to their chatter. Vergil wondered what Wollan would look like as he glanced around to see if anyone responded to Rosa’s loud call. When it seemed like no one was coming forward to answer, Rosa banged the wooden bar counter and shouted, “Wollan, you seadog, yer gonna keep your customer waiting?”

“Aye, hold on to your sea britches, Rosie! My sealegs aren’t as good as they used to be!” An irate voice shouted, followed by the thumping of wood against wood. When Vergil turned to look, he had to hide his astonished disbelief. 

Wollan was a storybook description of a pirate come to life. Wooden pegleg, a black eyepatch, wild hoary beard streaked with white and a hook with a long navy coat and tricorn hat. Vergil half expected to see a parrot perched on his shoulder. Dante would have loved this guy.

The old pirate gave him a beady look and huffed, “City slicker, aren’t ya? So you need my boat? What for?”

Vergil glanced around the bar, wondering how the people would react if he told the truth. If Maude’s earlier reaction was common, it would be unwise to say it here in public. But he _needed_ a boat to get to Mallet Island. He couldn’t wait any longer than he had to. So he gestured for Wollan to lean down and whispered in his ear, “...I need to get to the island. I’ll pay any price. It’s _urgent_.”

Wollan pulled back with a stony expression that did not bode well. Vergil’s stomach sank. The old sailor scowled, “Boy, that island is _dangerous_. No one has ever returned from it since the Calamity. Stay _away_ from it if you want to live.”

What calamity? Vergil wondered. But that wasn’t the point. He wouldn’t be deterred. Not when he was so _close_ to Dante. Trying his best to stay calm, he gritted out, “That’s _my_ choice to make. I only need someone to get me to the island. You don’t have to wait for me; you’re free to return once you’ve dropped me off.”

But his words fell on deaf ears. Wollan shook his head, “No. I won’t send a young man like you to that accursed place. Far too many people have gone and never returned. What makes you think you’re so different?”

Vergil took a deep breath. He shot back, “First, tell me what the hell is the Calamity and why is Mallet Island so dangerous?”

If his memories of his past life was correct, Mallet Island and Windernet Harbour had _never_ experienced a Calamity. The town folk had never been so fearful of Mallet Island before. Wollan growled and stomped away, refusing to answer. _Fuck_. Vergil stood to try and chase him down but Rosa pulled him back. 

With a sad face, she explained, “Oh, _Ferry_. Demons attacked Mallet Island ten years ago. Wiped everything out on the island. Only a few lucky survivors managed to escape by the skin of their teeth. Wollan was one of them...He was forced to leave his family behind, you see.”

“...I see.” Vergil sat down. The parallels and timing were obvious.

Rosa wiped a lager glass dry as she continued, “Wollan tried many times to return to the island to find his family, to at least put their bodies to rest, but it was simply too dangerous. He means well, Ferry. You’re about the same age as his daughter if she had lived.”

“...I still need to get the island. I _have_ to. No matter what.” Vergil firmly said. 

_Dante is waiting for me to bring him home._

“...May I ask why? You’re not local and you don’t seem like you’re just going there for fun.” Rosa poured out another glass of ale for another customer. Vergil sipped his ale again as he considered whether to tell the truth. He finally replied, “Like Wollan, I’ve got family there too. If you see Wollan again, tell him that I’ll help him find his daughter if he agrees to take me to the island.”

Rosa raised a brow, “My. Sure, I’ll pass on the message when he comes by again. I won’t try to dissuade you, seeing as you came all the way down from the city just to get to the island. But do be _careful_. Many people have failed to return when they went to the island. Part of the reason why the local folk are leaving for the cities; the harbour is far too close to that place for their liking.”

“Why didn’t you leave then?” Vergil asked, grateful that Rosa was sharing much needed information. He was genuinely curious why Rosa chose to stay in a small rural town. The bartender chortled and flexed her arms, “Leave these old sailors high and dry without their ale? Hah, fat chance! This pub has belonged to my family for generations and really, Mallet Island is only dangerous if you happen to be visiting there.”

“I see.” Vergil nodded. Rosa shrugged and turned away, tending to another customer.

_That could have gone better. But at least Rosa did agree to speak to Wollan on my behalf...I wonder if Wollan will change his mind? If not...there must be other sailors I can try speaking to. I still have more than two weeks but time can fly fast…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, kudos and comments are much appreciated! <3


	11. Mallet Island

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long guys. I've been sidetracked by a whole lot of things and events IRL. I hope you all enjoy this latest update!

“Can you take me to Mallet Island?”

“Not a chance in hell! Mallet Island? You must be outta your mind.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you able to take me to the island?”

“Nope. My boat’s under repair. Besides, you shouldn’t be going there in the first place. It’s haunted!”

 

* * *

 

“No way. Why do you want to go to such a place? Go home.”

“Rosa was being nice. You should know when to quit, boy.”

“Heh, your name’s Ferry, I heard? Why not _ferry_ yourself over?”

“Fuck off.”

“Until pigs fly.”

 

* * *

 

Over a week had already passed and Vergil was still nowhere any closer to Mallet Island. He was still stuck in Windernet Harbour. None of the sailors was willing to take him there and despite Rosa’s help, Wollan stubbornly refused to take him. Vergil grew tenser and tenser as time slowly, inexorably slipped away. The deadline was now almost round the corner. _Fuck_. He didn’t come all the way here just to be stymied like _this_. He had to save Dante before the portal to Hell closed.

He now stood on the pier, staring at the dark spot of Mallet Island in the distance, trying to figure out if it was feasible to fly there in his devil trigger form or teleport there with Yamato. But to his immense furious frustration, no, it _wasn’t_. First, it was too far and he’d only likely drown in the foolish attempt. Second, teleporting with Yamato only worked if he was familiar with the destination and knew _exactly_ where he wanted to go. Otherwise, he’d just end up lost somewhere he did not intend to go or in the worst-case scenario, rip the time-space continuum, especially with how demonic energies distorted time. If what Rosa said was true… Mallet Island, now a veritable nest of demons, was too dangerous as a destination to attempt teleporting.

So. He was _stuck_. Here on this stupid rickety pier without a boat. Dante would laugh at him if he was here. Growling, Vergil looked over at the boats bobbing in the harbour. Could he try stealing one? The idea would have merit if he knew how to sail a boat. But he didn’t and would probably shipwreck himself.

Unable to refrain from sighing, Vergil sat on the damp wooden planks as he gazed at Mallet Island. What else could he do to get there? Should he try threatening a sailor at either gunpoint or with a sword to their neck? He’d done worse as a hitman after all…

“My, that’s quite the heavy sigh. Careful, you might summon a storm.” A feminine voice laughed. Vergil turned, narrowing his eyes at the stranger, ready to snap at them. But when he finally saw her, he paused. Hadn’t he seen her before? The woman clapped her hands and cheerfully said, “I knew it! You’re the same guy I met on the train earlier, aren’t you? You ordered a beef pie and an Earl Grey tea. Your hair is pretty distinctive.”

Ah. The woman was the train conductor. She was out of uniform now, dressed in jeans and a fisherman’s sweater with her long brown hair down. Vergil slowly nodded, “Yes, that’s right. I believe your name was...Beatrice?”

Beatrice’s smile widened, “I’m honoured you remember me! I didn’t think you would, considering I look quite different out of uniform and our meeting was so brief. So, may I ask why you were pulling a long face?”

Before Vergil could react, she crouched down beside him and peered off in the same direction he had been looking at, shading her eyes from the sun with both hands. Beatrice made a knowing noise, “ _Aaah_. I see! You were trying to get to that island there but no one is willing to take you there, is it?”

“...How did you know?” Vergil suspiciously demanded, his hand drifting down to Yamato beside him. Was she a spy sent by Mundus?

Not noticing Vergil’s surreptitious movement, Beatrice snorted, “I’m a _local_! Rumours are going round town about an outsider wanting to go to the cursed island. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.”

...Right, he had been quite conspicuous lately and he did ask quite a number of sailors around the small town. Vergil pulled his hand back from Yamato with a huff, “Yes. You’re correct. I’d considered stealing a boat but I’m no sailor.”

Beatrice nodded with a sympathetic look on her face, “Of course. You’ve already heard the stories of what happened ten years ago? It’s no surprise that the sailors are too scared to go near.”

A flash of irritation had Vergil growling at her, “ _And?_ ”

He already knew this. He stood up, not wanting to waste any more of his time moping around. He’d find a way on his own and didn’t need a stranger poking their nose into his business. Beatrice stood up too and calmly said, “Relax. Hear me out. I can help you get there if you help me out. Quid pro quo.”

Vergil paused. This was the first time someone in Windernet Harbour was willing to help him get to Mallet Island. He eyed her and asked frankly, “What do you need me to do?”

He would do anything to save Dante. _Anything_.

Her hazel eyes flashing in grim determination, Beatrice gave him a cynical smile, “I also want to go there too...to put ghosts to rest. But I need a bodyguard.”

“And in return...you’ll be my guide and transport?” Vergil quickly grasped what Beatrice wanted. Hope buoyed him.

“Yes. That’s what I’m offering. You in?” Beatrice held out her hand to him. Without hesitation, Vergil shook her hand and firmly replied, “Yes. When’s the soonest you can leave for Mallet Island?”

“Ideally, now of course. But that’d be rash. We need to stock up on food and water first and other essentials before we sail over. There’s likely nothing edible and drinkable there and I don’t know how long we’ll take before we accomplish our goals.” Beatrice wisely pointed out. Vergil frowned, not liking that he’d still have to wait. But then, Beatrice did bring up good points. How many more days did he have left before the portal closed…?

_….About a week. Only seven days..._

Vergil finally nodded, “Alright, we should stock up a week’s worth of supplies. Any longer would be too dangerous.” And pointless.

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. I’ll see you back here this evening!” Beatrice cheerfully agreed. Then she dashed off, her long brown hair flapping behind her. Vergil watched her go and then looked back at the island. Just a few more hours and he’d finally get to step foot on Mallet Island.

“Wait for me, Dante,” Vergil whispered before he turned away. It was time to prepare.

 

* * *

 

The sun was now setting low in the sky, staining the sea blood red once more. While waiting on the pier for Beatrice, Vergil rechecked his supplies in his pouch. Being half-demon, he didn’t need to eat food or drink water as much as full humans did. If need be, he could just eat the demons on Mallet Island. So instead of stocking up on edibles, Vergil had stockpiled a week’s worth of medicine, bandages and ammunition.

“Yoohoo! I hope you haven’t been waiting for too long?” Beatrice yodelled. Turning and looking down, Vergil saw Beatrice come sailing up to the jetty in a small red speedboat with a large backpack in the empty seats behind her. She patted the empty seat beside her with a grin, “Ready to go?”

“Like you needed to ask.” Vergil climbed down the side-ladder and hopped off into the speedboat. Beatrice cocked her chin and rolled her shoulder, “Strap yourself in and we’re off!”

Vergil did so.

“Okay, here we _gooooo_!” Beatrice whooped as she steered the speedboat out of the harbour, speeding towards Mallet Island. Tightening his grip on Yamato at his hip, Vergil kept his eyes on the black dot. How much worse would Mallet Island be in this timeline? Would he succeed in rescuing Dante or would he fail?

Only time would tell.

 

* * *

 

Mallet Island was further than it looked on the horizon. Despite going at the speedboat’s fastest speed, it was almost sunset by the time Vergil and Beatrice finally reached the rocky shores of the island. The sun was now more than halfway below the horizon with a thin sliver of the moon high in the sky.

The sputtering of the speedboat’s engine winding down rudely broke the tranquil silence as Beatrice carefully moored the speedboat to a large boulder. Vergil surveyed their surroundings with narrowed eyes. While peaceful on the surface, there was an eerie stillness to the air that made his instincts uneasy.

And...there was _that_ castle up on the island’s highest point, accessible only by a treacherous rocky cliff path. Dante was definitely there. And...what was Beatrice’s aim on Mallet Island? He belatedly realised that he hadn’t asked her yet, too focused on getting here in the first place.

“Before we proceed further, can you tell me why you want to come here?” He bluntly asked Beatrice just as she finished mooring the speedboat. She started, almost falling into the shallow water below. A few long moments passed before she finally replied evasively, “I already told you at the start. I came here to put some ghosts to rest. That’s all you need to know.”

Vergil refrained from growling. Beatrice had already brought him to here to Mallet Island. It wouldn’t do to lose his cool with someone who had done him a great favour. So he tried again, “You wanted me to be your bodyguard. In order to do my job, I _need_ to know what your goal is, so I can better protect you.”

“Did I say that?” Beatrice played dumb, already skipping ahead up the cliff trail towards the castle. Vergil cursed lowly and chased after her, “ _Hold up!”_

But the woman did not stop. Instead, she sped up, her footing surprisingly steady despite the uneven and steep path. The loose scree, knocked loose by her feet, came tumbling down and pelted Vergil hard. He could have withdrawn Yamato and used it to create a shield or created a protective barrier with his demonic energy to block the rock shards but that would have instantly revealed his presence to the demons and Mundus on Mallet Island like a beacon.

And then, _fuck!_ A boulder, somehow knocked loose, came careening down towards him. The path was too narrow to side-step it. It was also moving too fast for him to out-run it. Vergil almost pulled out Yamato to slice it in half but he stopped short, remembering that it would be too risky and might reveal his presence to the demons. _Damn it!_ Vexed, Vergil bit the bullet and jumped off the path.

Bobbing in the cold waters below and cursing furiously, he watched the distant dot of Beatrice disappear up the hill into the castle. He was already hating this job. Should he just give up on her and go searching for Dante?

But no...Dante wouldn’t have approved. Vergil had promised to protect her so he should keep his word. With a weary sigh, Vergil swam back to the shore. Sopping wet and cold, he trudged his way back up the hill to the castle. At least, Dante would probably get a laugh out of this when he heard.

 

* * *

 

Despite the time it took Vergil to reach the castle doors, he was still far too damp for his liking. Ugh, he absolutely hated the sensation of cold wet clothes sticking to his skin and worse still, the way his boots squelched. In a foul mood, he noted that Beatrice was nowhere to be seen but the doors were open, indicating that she had gone in.

His annoyance then dissipated. Vergil swallowed as he looked up at the castle, a clammy sick feeling filling his stomach. All this place held for him were bad memories he wished he could forget. How he had suffered for his folly under Mundus’ rule. But yet, he _must_. Dante was waiting for him within this cursed castle. How ironic that it would be his turn now to rescue Dante...like he had in the original timeline.

But would he succeed? Or was it already too late? Dante had, after all, only been a young child when he was taken those years ago while he had been a teenager on the cusp of adulthood. It would not be impossible for Dante to be dead… What if it was a trap all along? Vergil couldn’t stop these thoughts from flitting through his mind as he tried to make himself move, to step past the castle threshold back into the nightmare that haunted him.

Vergil was _scared_.

But. That letter. It had to be from Dante somehow. Vergil placed his hand on the open door and pushed it wider as he whispered to himself, “ _There is no greater sorrow than thinking back upon a happy time in misery_.”

If need be, Vergil would face Mundus once more and walk backwards into Hell.

The doors closed behind him with a loud thud of finality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are much appreciated! Come find me on twitter at [@ginspicesugar](https://twitter.com/ginspicesugar).


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